Arse Poetica Pro Novus Aevum Poem by Phillip Erb

Moon passes slow
When you measure the minutes until dawn
When're counting on another man's clock
Waiting for dawn to get on with your life
Sun moves so fast
When you're poor, water's never worth more
The tomatoes on the back porch thirst in silence
While the refrigerator keeps empty shelves cold
The balance between life and misery needs to be calibrated,
Though I'm not certain where the weights are hiding.
Empty hearts write no poetry
They forget love and been so
Thoroughly hollowed out,
The broken shells don't realize anything is even missing at all.
Moon's getting low
My heart performs in the early morning night,
For a gracious audience of mosquitoes,
For the vampires I write and recite
Please hold your applause
Until the blood has been drawn...