Three Poems by Wayne F. Burke

 

Stay up all night

and listen to the 

radio and

write;

the dark in me

spreads on pages

as branches scratch

in calligraphic

on the window, and

the snow sifts

and wite-outs' the 

dawn.

The sky is not sky

but lava

the birds swim through

at their own risk

and leisure, unlike

me, hurdling through

at 500 mph

in an aluminum tube

that incubates fright.

As the sun sets behind the 

ridge line, a truck driver

backs his truck

into a barroom's parking lot.

A girl, standing in front of the 

bar, puffs on a cigarette.

The barroom door swings open

and shut as

a pizza-delivery man

exits, and 

a bird, on a telephone line, dives

and disappears from

my sight--

all of which

has something to do with me

but

I am not quite

sure 

what.

Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published in print and online (including Kind of a Hurricane Press Anthology).  He is author of eight full-length published poetry collections -- most recently, Black Summer (Spartan Press, 2021). He lives in Vermont (USA).