space debris in fifty pound
chunks
crashing all around
the world
no one knows where they will fall
and the dog is sleeping
not caring at all
planes are buzzing overhead
bringing crazies here
for Saturday's game
they're flying in from everywhere
to assail
every minute of the day's last hours
Sunday becomes
and church again means
dinner at sunset
i wake before dawn
to feel its light
peaking over tree tops
cutting through kitchen curtains
the sun cracks daggers
marking lasers
that stretch the entire floor
carving out its darkness
i brew coffee
hearing through walls
grumblings from Sunday's buses
climbing hilly inclines
carrying warriors to a path
toward heaven
their passing silence
awakened
by shrieks from chickadees
in trees
where mocking birds cackle
at barking squirrels
communicating
a kind of binary oration
of authentications
it is Sunday afternoon
and a neighbor arrives
home from a drive
to the nearest fast mart,
i hear the engine die
the door clicks then slams
distant footsteps disappear
their faintness whispering
leaves rustle the patio
making scraping sounds
with each wind-breath
they rain as feathers
and land like spiders
repelling their fall
and the dog is sleeping
not caring at all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem