Another poem!

I found this while looking through an old blog I kept while in England. I like it. Though it was written over a year ago it feels very pertinent to today. Also, it has a sort of Adrienne Rich vibe that I'm digging.

Untitled

I worry
That the streetlights flicker while I sleep
Speaking a brilliant Morse code
And they're laughingLaughing while I sleep
And I'm dreaming in Latin
Or maybe Aramaic
Of bagged lunches and scrapped knees
But I could,I know I could,
Dream of smudged ink
And hands that smell of turpentine
But I fall asleep to the hum of the bread machine
Whirring and moving its parts
Against the night-silence of an old house
This poem will never be read
Or ripped to pieces
Only yellow between these covers
Grow old, distant, absurd
Climb into a chest of drawers
And when I come around again
Looking for a sweater
Or maybe this
It will be my turn to laugh
Not like the street lights
But like an arthritic cellist
With negligent hands