"FACINGFACES 2002 - 04" SELECTED POETRY

UNTITLED

Beneath burnt-out streetlights
Angels collect pain like trash.
Blanketed in night’s solitude they try
To swallow the entire world’s sorrow.
Hands broken, tattooed with the symmetry
of weathered scars, they work tirelessly.
 
We will have our heaven too,
They whisper and everywhere
Storms are brewing. Window-perched
Above a cluster of sunflowers,
A jar teeming with nails rattles,
Power lines quiver uncontrollably.
Rain explodes and the earth is filled
With this hope, this coarse music.

© Alex Lemon
USA