The Sky Between the Leaves

I’m all out of poems tonight…

I’ve looked on the street

in the sky between the leaves…

I’ve lost connection before

when the ghost child grieves

*

I’m on the lookout for a poem tonight…

a softening, a quickening

in a silky smooth cocoon…

an ancient clown rhythming

bringing the ghost child balloons

*

I’m ready Lord Byron to eat a villanelle…

some sushi, some sake

with a flaming haiku for dessert…

a bodhisattva, Whitman’s Orb

to take away the ghost child’s fear

*

I’m calling about a poem…

doesn’t have to be brand new

but the sucker needs to start…

transportation outta this place

to heal the ghost child’s broken heart