Under The Red, White, And Blue

Lying awake, the night sky 
on your mind,
a violet shelf of trophies 
you will never quite grasp.

Working dark seams 
until they give up scant fuel;
playing hard games
until the least prize falls 
into your hands.

You say
hey, it’s a living.
You say that
as often as you can.

Lying awake under
a dream sky you thought was 
just beyond your fingertips.
They told you that
so many times
that more than once
you thought
you’d brushed against it
more than once.

It felt like either heaven
or cobwebs. Hard
to say at the time,

but now you know.

Lying there
under that sky
you can’t reach
that will never redden for dawn 
or turn white for full day
and the stars you longed for
are like needles in your eyes
and the deep blue looks like 
shrouds and you know
none of it 
was ever really for you.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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