Nicholas Petrone- Three Poems

“Losing Faith”

Thru my bedroom window

I follow glimpses of a world

Much different than the one I sleepwalk through

Most mornings.

Them crows upon the desolate branches

Don’t think of themselves as

Doom or death

As they huddle against autumn.

They don’t see themselves as omens of anything –

I lie there feeling silly for all of us.

They seem to know what they’re doing

Where they’re going

Now landing on a wire with

Eight hundred and seventy four

Of their closest chums, leaving me to wonder

Whether this pattern was discussed in the huddle

And though all I see are crooked, boney silhouettes

Against the morning almost-light

With their wraithlike squawking guests

Thru the narrow space where the curtain comes short,

The world is somehow bigger this way and more remarkable

The community they inhabit is more authentic

Than the one I will rise to…eventually –

I imagine all the talking cartoon animals of childhood at once

And wish I could will superstitions into being.

My problem is I can’t stop there –

Before I genuflect, I want to be sure of the outcome

I want to taste the candy without unwrapping it,

To rest on clouds without dying

To know that she’ll love me always

Before I say hello.

.

How lucky is the rabbit

With his foot in the trap?

            

“untitled muse 13”

Blues riffs are bigger than the bible –

smoke encircles the stage

like a spectral mosaic of St. Paul’s

guitar face –

Matthew rapping poetic about miracles

never saw calloused brown fingers

scraping distorted angels from the cold nickel strings

like genesis.

Notes never really die

they just join our other longings

in the back of the Bar.

“Children Always”

My sister’s bike and my bike that is better, shiver in the rain

I can’t see it happening but

I know it’s true. When the spokes spin

like magic

I know it is the breath of God.

I believe that Legos can come to life

and shoot lasers like in the movies –

there is no adventure or glory beyond my reach

no miracle too remarkable

no scientific principle too firm –

the prattle of the elders is not all that noteworthy –

just want to get through my math homework and go back to creating galaxies.

BIO: 

Nicholas Petrone's poems can be found in many places, including The View From Here, Willows Wept Review, The Ranfurly Review, Poetry Superhighway, and in overflowing boxes in his attic. He teaches American history in Syracuse, NY.