I write a poem, cross it out
write a song with no melody and hum
to myself and make up a story
where a character steals the sun
and
I watch the jilted star swing low
get caught in a black satin bag
carried away to a jail cell with
no windows, and rats in the corner
and
I write a new poem, erase it
write a song with no melody and hum
to myself and make up a story
where the sun swings back my way
and
I watch the next night, hope everything
has listened to my words, hope that
the sun swings low, swings hard
lights up the shadows on the wall
and
the shadows lengthen from the light
cast by the streetlamps, cast by the
passing headlights, watch them made to dance
by anything but my locked up sun
and
the bars on the windows cast heavy shadows
the rats on the floor run at the first sign of
light, and this iron chair holds no tender touch
and the world turns again
and
I have no song for it
Ben Paynter
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-i-write-a-poem/
