Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: Please consider sending one, two, three, or more dollars a month. I consider myself a "third industrial revolution" poet. My current income is just $1039.00 a month. I receive SNAP and energy assistance. I wish I didn't have to ask the government for help. The government doesn't read my poetry. You do. Out of over 350 poems here on this blog by me, I hope you find one or more you like. It's why I'm asking you for help. Thank you if you can help me monthly.


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Tuesday, November 20, 2018

The Telling

The Telling

The sound of night
is traffic at a distance
with the rustle
of covers and breathing.
A radio is set
for the news
when the British
spread their world
before them.
The sleepless
who toss and turn
try to find
a space not as lonely
as it always is.
For some there are tears
of recognition
or resignation
to the end of life,
painted with colors
that dim at sundown.
Many touch their skin
to find comforts
no one else will give
to lips limited by age,
now bitten to stem
the rage of memory.
Then, kisses were plentiful
as the photons
of street and star light
that beamed through a gap
in the curtains.
The bed was warmed
by the bodies of two
whose lips touched
by accident and plan
in the center of heaven.

Barry G. Wick
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