Litkicks Message Board Archive

lofting butterfly beacons high into the ten oÂ’clock night

Posted to Action Poetry




youÂ’re at work by six a.m. stacking
giant boxes on shelves with a lift truck
the smell of burnt coffee in the warehouse
propane glow from the fuel tank
why do you work so hard?
ten years of yer life & what do you have
to show fer yer sweat and time?
a back brace, a smashed finger
and paychecks long since spent
day after day busting ass to put
steak and lobster on another guyÂ’s plate
diamonds on his wifeÂ’s neck
& coke up his punk sonÂ’s nose
jimmy boy the sunshine comes in
multicolor magical hues it waves
from the sky like a three-year-old child
the moonlight flows down like tapioca
& tastes like a melted creamsicle
love percolates up from the street
like camphor steam from mossy rocks
itÂ’s ten oÂ’clock & yer still not home from work
iÂ’m lofting butterfly beacons high into
the ten oÂ’clock night playing catch with fogdreams
later i might just have a beer with god
iÂ’d ask you to join us but i know
iÂ’d knock on yer door & just hear the dog
bark back in mournful reply




(sal is also madtolive@hotmail.com)