
darkness approaches, a face I know well shadows, touching, whispering the dreams that fail to absolve our sterile streams the empty seed crushed the genitalia reformed as we worship the urinal liturgy written on segregated walls I light my last cigarette fighting against the cold air to keep my only heat smouldering billboards proclaim "you're in Bluewater country" but this city is too cold its river frozen and too its soul I cry out to night's solitaires to in unison reveal their broken dreams cut by the sides of rusty Gillettes drifting like the smokestacks exhaust of carbon monoxide its cancerous cocktails of chemicals drifting scattering infecting with every breath 3:35 am, corner of Exmouth and Christina still a few cars roam the streets the red rich woman driven caddy lights against her all the way her back seat coloured in seasonal display the lights should know her importance she impatiently waits for their change to slide her away. the Holmes Foundry worker ending his shift black from his labour cursing the lights consciously or asleep? a little while ahead the overpass appears beside the frozen athletic park where lovers, young, are pressing each to each, in their nocturnal devotion above the black snow sided king's number 7, misted in holiday neon one can see clearly at this hour the sorrows and the shadows as the night walkers dance. trying to make sights into poems trying to remember the painful details
Joseph A. Farina is a retired lawyer in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada. His poems have appeared in Philedelphia Poets, Tower Poetry, The Windsor Review, and Tamaracks: Canadian Poetry for the 21st Century. He has two books of poetry published ,The Cancer Chronicles and The Ghosts of Water Street
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