SPEAK

by PAULA

speak to me
when the dirt and gravel are
drowned out
and I can’t hear the ambulance sirens
two blocks away
wailing
for a chance
to be
speak
to the crackles of a leaf that never
had a chance
the drops falling
on an aluminum mailbox
that are a medley in themselves
the tiles along a fence
a paradox of paradise
home to three cats and
a gypsy in a flower pot
warm crackles
light up even
the burnt-out stars
God’s footprints are my radio
echoing across a polluted atmosphere
the booming, the air fronts
warm and cold alike collide.
opposites attract, and when they meet, they’re fire
in the sky
smoke on the horizon
in my mind I can
feel he soaked socks
clinging to my feet
as I pranced about
on my porch