voiceless

silence, a hole

burned  in the night

where weight

of stars has neither

meaning nor heft

what falls burns brightly

for a time and disappears

tangled in a web

of dreams, my eyes

floating through viscous scenes:

sleek gray shark among

reeds, a woman

dancing on a crazy

table top as plates

skitter and crash

to the white floor

an apple glowing green

and red through wires

of an empty grocery

cart, a door without a

house, handprints

and a sidewalk stained

with colored chalk –

pastels, pink and green, yellow and blue

warnings in a child’s brutal scrawl.
—————–
Steve Klepetar teaches literature and writing at Saint Cloud State University in Minnesota.  He is a six time Pushcart Prize nominee.

Posted by Mel. View all posts by Mel
Thursday, July 1st, 2010 12:27 am
Categories: Archives, Issue 4.1