THREE POEMS

By Jason Visconti

SUNRISE


Windows light up one by one
breathing down on the breathless street.
A car skids by in an early shadow.

The moon swallows her distance and disappears.
Streetlamps bat their lashes and close their eyes,
a bird perched on top spreads her wings
and lifts up toward the slow melting sky.

Steel glitters across an empty highway
the blank faces like phantoms of stars.





THE SOUNDS OF AN EMPTY ROOM


If I wait long enough
The birds shall sing on my window sill all day.
The oaks trees leaves will rustle in the wind
as if they have been called some attention to themselves.
A light drizzle from the night sky
will sprinkle on the doorstep like a touching whisper…
running down my walls I will hear its breath lightly stolen away.
The cars outside skid with the friction of the road.
Children laugh and invite their laughter in.
Someplace at the bottom of someone’s sleep
lies a scream their holding in.
I cower to think of where I am.





THE OLDEST PROFESSION


Swanky dreams and honest whores
And broken flats across the floorboards
One movement of a specimen
May marriage come.


To stand without a brace impaired
To shield someone anonymous
To greet the grandstand
To pillow-talk down hallways spared of tense…


and having come
to her room, knowingly
selected, spruced with feathers 
a bird in her matrix…


I livingly live
This livid past.






 

 END

Jason Visconti is a poet from Astoria, New York.

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