Sunday, October 2, 2022

Three Poems by Wayne F. Burke

Stay up all night
and listen to the 
radio and
the dark in me
spreads on pages
as branches scratch
in calligraphic
on the window, and
the snow sifts
and wite-outs' the 

The sky is not sky
but lava
the birds swim through
at their own risk
and leisure, unlike
me, hurdling through
at 500 mph
in an aluminum tube
that incubates fright.

As the sun sets behind the 
ridge line, a truck driver
backs his truck
into a barroom's parking lot.
A girl, standing in front of the 
bar, puffs on a cigarette.
The barroom door swings open
and shut as
a pizza-delivery man
exits, and 
a bird, on a telephone line, dives
and disappears from
my sight--
all of which
has something to do with me
I am not quite

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published in print and online (including Kind of a Hurricane Press Anthology).  He is author of eight full-length published poetry collections -- most recently, Black Summer (Spartan Press, 2021). He lives in Vermont (USA).

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