I know the sounds of the nighttime train,
for I hear them whenever I sigh.
On top of tracks that run away,
the impatient people leave.
The Conductor always screams,
“Come on board
and wait no more;
I can see you on that bench.
Get right up
and give on up;
on speeding logic we dance…”
His voice drifts off as dawn comes on
and again I sit right here,
on a rusty bench in the park;
I wait for God.
WEIGHT OF MOONLIGHT
Under the weight
of moonlight pressing
against the dusty
window pane,
my worries chase sleep
to the edges of
this sweat drenched
bed.
Awake.
Aware
of all the blood within
each vein,
many rivers without
a sea.
The air in my bedroom is
heavy as the sky,
mechanically I count
breaths,
Inhale,
Exhale.
One, two, three,
the mist brushing
the grass.
My consciousness
refuses to become oblivious,
and let me blend or mesh
with the unaware.
Existence,
a nightly burden.
WHAT IS
Touch
in a moment of nothing,
using lust
to fill a space
of temporary boredom.
No time in love,
or need for aged emotions.
A simple stroke
to occupy
idle hands.
Momentary passing
with nothing more needed
except for what is.
…WITH EACH WORD
Stuttering is like death of the mouth
following a stroke of the mind,
which creates an impulse in the legs
to run from the person
who expects conversation;
I die with each word.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nathaniel Fincham was born in Ravenna Ohio and is currently living in Bristolville Ohio with his wife and daughter. He has earned a Master's Degree in Forensic Psychology, but is currently employed as a hard surface flooring installer due to the down-trodden economy in Northeast Ohio.
You may contact him either on his Facebook page or by email at natefincham@gmail.com.