Four Short Poems

The Stars

If I could see the stars up close without a space suit

I would –

No veil of ozone separating us

or billions of miles or light years

and no thermal micrometeoroid garment

I think it would be worth the quick death

Because as my lungs choke for air

and my eyes expand and contract from the vacuum

the last thought running through my oxygen starved brain

is stars

 

The Artist

Whenever my father saw someone a little crazy looking

Muttering to himself

Wearing too many clothes, or not enough

Looking a little too unreal, like a figure in the back of an oil painting

He says, “He’s got the artist in him.”

I’ve always thought the idea strange –

You’ve got to be crazy

to be an artist

 

Sled

A sled flying down a snowy hill

going airborne at every knob

A small child barely holding on

No thought of mortality

I’m jealous

I want to tear that sled away from him

show him that things must end

But I don’t

because ignorance is bliss and today that boy got to fly

 

Home

Sometimes I drive past the street where I grew up

I don’t stop, just drive by the front of the block

looking down it, the streetlights in row, like looking down a river

it all seems so far away.

I remember the summer Hurricane Ike swept into Kentucky

we lost power for a week

I walked around late at night in the dark

Hearing only the occasional hum of a generator

No lights for miles around

I saw a cigarette glowing down Marshall Drive

close to my house.

Maybe it’s time to go home