I walk in the quiet calm of late night.
Commotion has left the streets,
offices, shipyards, warehouses,
questioning its return.
Here and there it dissipates in homes,
playing out in vented word hoards
and occasional hand payment
(said to be in serious arrears). Then,
traces in dreams for tomorrow's plight:
Cry of the vendor, broker, duffer, huckster . . .
Meanwhile, congestion,
balled up in the chest,
fear of never having enough,
gets ready for tomorrow,
strains, twists into a coil--
As I walk, I see the occasional picture of light
hanging on a home, framed by its distant brothers
and sisters who speckle the sky.
Once I swear a girl looked out and stared right at me.
A chill shot through my chest.
I thought she might speak:
"Trash dwells in their coffers of blight,"
but I was mistaken.
What I actually heard was a tear
masquerading as a raindrop,
falling into a desiccated,
long forgotten well.
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I have enjoyed the poemization of this ontological poem for its deep feelings... "It's in the Air Tonight" flows and glows throughout its poetized emotions and rich imagery.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU