Poem of the Day 08.26.08

heart like a flower

my hands are dead
but my heart is like a flower
my soul smells burnt
and i wait for the rain
with the computer fan humming
and the sweat forming
on my brow
through radio commercials
and petty cat arguments
through prose that won’t come
over letters that i am rereading
but not returning
while my stomach rumbles
while the bowels settle
as the scotch bottle waits
as the men outside clean
the whore vomit and cigarette butts
off the pavement
as people eat bad food
in diners
with the sad and broken
getting on trains for work
with the kids on skateboards
getting in their last jumps
as the young girls learn
to shake their asses for men
on the r train
with nothing happening in the bars
but the buzz of the television
as the daily news bores me
with no movies to see
with the baseball season going
to shit again
as the clouds swirl and gather
over brooklyn, new jersey,
and hell.
i wait for the rain.
my hands dead
but my heart like a flower
that struggles everyday
not to curl into itself and wilt.