Today's poem is by Rick Bursky
This was the night police chased the musicians from the roof.
Yes, the building was abandoned, waiting for the steel ball
to swing from a chain and smash walls.
But the old women across the street couldn't sleep.
This was the night someone hid a mandolin in a garbage can,
just below a filthy sweater, as if they expected someone
to lift the lid and look. This was the night
the pay phone on the corner continued to ring.
The night the sky remained dark longer than it had a right to.
And the dust that would rise into that sky, just waiting.
Copyright © 2009 Rick Bursky All rights reserved
from Death Obscura
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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