The 1: 15 Poem by Francis Santaquilani

Want swells

Like a corpulant star

In the wide summer night sky

And aligns with his open window.

Flat on his back, he cools and

Rides the grind of the earth.

The burn from the bite of the day

Scars and

He steams. From his hands

It swirls and climbs

Like ghostly ivy and entwines trees

Rooftops and the moon.

He's dizzy.

In the blue shadows and the green light,

With a locked door at his back

And a window to escape into a warm lap,

Man and boy duke it out.

The boy wins!


The boy stumbles into the night

And hops a dad.

Dad rolls on steel wheels.

Sparks and metal shavings fly

And cling to his blue, worn, sweater like stars.

His nimbus is magnificent.

He hauls and hauls and smiles.

He is speed, smoke and sweat

And noise.

Especially noise!