Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Branches in a wood

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A Nice Day

A nice day might be the sun
blotted out by Pharaoh plague,
starlings on a viral wing tapping
at the window wanting in to
a dream you’ve not yet slept
through, or reawakened from.

A nice day might be cancer
singing the rim of a cut-glass
vase, its piercing song breaking
off branches in a wood two
worlds away, the place you
set for it at your humble table.

A nice day might be a woman
curled as sweet bacon in your bed,
the smell of her like mornings
spent camped in tents when
all creation enters before you’ve
found courage to raise the flap.

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A nice day might be the book
you bought but will never make
time to read, the having of it,
the looking at and holding of
it enough to satisfy the slowly
shrinking fit of your worn soul.

A nice day might be you arriving
through a side door to your life,
how everything looks different
this way, the perspective happily
askew giving rise to new promises
you consider keeping this time.

Joseph Gallo
July 5, 2011


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