This entry is part 19 of 23 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2013-14


Who will sift the snow
fine as dust from the eyes of the clock?
Who will find the ring
buried in layers of cake?
How does the tendril on the vine
still believe in the rotary phone?
Who will take off his shoes
to walk across the blistered sand?
When will the child lay
her hand across the mouth of suffering?
Why is the rooster’s crow
indifferent to the progress of snails?
Why should I return
dreams that refuse to open?
Who will instruct
a wounded star?
Who will embroider the cave
with splendid suns?
What is required for you
to take up a weed and dance?


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Aubade, with no lover departing at dawnfrom Ghost Blueprints →

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