John Grey | 3 Poems

TO THE BEGINNING OF A NEW DAY

My nose – museum stale –
greets a yawn
like death says “hi” to life
in the street.

My eyes, braced for light,
paddle in the shreds of darkness.

My body, like a sleepy snake,
bites its tail.

Yow.
Luckily, the poison
is happiness.

BABY ON BOARD

I see that sticker often.

Some might
interpret it
as reflecting a sense
of pride.

But to me
there’s desperation
in those words,
“Baby On Board.”

I see a mother,
clutching a little girl
against her breast
with one hand
while fighting off
a gang of child-snatchers
with the other.

And I hear her scream
above and beyond all the traffic noise.

“Please, don’t take her from me!”
She’s all I’ve got!”

TAKING THE BUS HOME AT MIDNIGHT

I walk close to the gutter,
avoiding the closed fists,
the angry eyes.

Trash cans overflow.
Empty retail space
reflects impassive streetlights.

Drizzle floats down
from up there somewhere,
alights on my hair, my collar.

Some drunks,
a tattooed toothless behemoth,
a couple of rowdy kids,

the bus stop is like
an oasis that’s been
overrun by hyenas.

But these are not predators.
They’re prey like me.
There’s worse out there

than four drinks too many,
a burnt-out brain,
and late-night boredom.

There’s even worse
than living alone,
working a crap job,

having no car
and not enough money
to afford a cab.

The bus arrives.
We must get on,
pay our fare,

take a seat,
leave no one behind…
downtown is watching.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Lost Pilots. Latest books, “Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and  “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in California Quarterly, Seventh Quarry, La Presa and Doubly Mad.