Static Poem by Brett Rogers

I stand with my dogs before or at the sunrise and overlook the Chattahoochee …
… And it is indescribable and everyday different …
… And I let the wind blow the tears from my eyes …

* * *

I sit here now, Indian-style, and Beasley is a furry crescent on my pillows and Gracie is doing her sleeping-cat impression in the dip of my mattress…
… And I feel the square-footage of this new home …
And my cheeks streak with wet.

* * *

There was this 1 Thursday
Where Beas was havin’ a sleepover with Grace at their Ma’s …
And the Sun had gone early in the November sky,
Leaving me in the off-the-grid dark with a couple 40’s …
And it was violent and exhausting.

* * *

There is no one to watch me shine.
And what does the Sun have
But the so-faithful 9?