tuesday morning octets

#1

distant train whistle repeats this black morning;
car lights at the avenue stop sign advance—

steam in wisps rises & swirls from the coffee cup;
sweetened only by half & half & soothing

a raw throat—you sat in the full lotus, eyes
lowered in the dream; not a word to be said—

condensation glittering on the silent
window: tell me where the train whistle has gone

#2

amber light crosses the parking lot; kitchen
lit white in the opposite direction—black

teakettle as punctuation, mild rattle
when the fridge starts up, whir as the hard drive spins—

vibrations translated; black headphones straddle
the computer’s gray box, empty, echoing

silence—reflection segmented by the blinds:
everyone rising everyone dissolving 


Jack Hayes
© 2016


11/22/16