ManicDDaily

Lorenzo Ghiberti (1430-1508), "Christ in the Storm" (Bronze Relief, The Florence Baptistry)

Some Insist On Living By The Sea

Some insist on living by the sea,
waves, even without the wade of Jesus, soothing
the storm in their souls.  Some sleep
to the shush of a stream; some to the silence
of deep pine.  A few–hardy
types, who harken to the habitual–find reassurance
in the clickety rhythmics of nearby rails.
But I wake today in the sure understanding
that my residential pre-requisite
is a dumpster, or
two, whose persistent groans, extended yaws,
hyena bursts of hydraulics, are scheduled (always)
just a bit too early for my alarm.

I should, perhaps,
feel gratitude–they have followed me so
loyally, these dumpsters (trailed by trucks
and cartage contracts)–from apartment to
apartment, neighborhood to neighborhood,
like a stray (huge) cat that I must feed
(unwittingly) in some forgotten but
recurring dream, where we meet on a midnight
curb–me, with my bags
of recyclables, it
with its deep green mountainsides.
And I do–as my back leans against the wall, as the dove softness
of the hour slips to
sheet level, as everything above
tilts, sprawls, clumps,
like so much wadded detritus–feel thankful, yes,
that, in this particular bedroom, I can’t quite smell
the exhaust.

I’m posting this for dVerse Poets Pub’s “Meeting the Bar” challenge to be in the moment; this prompt hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.