MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Sword Posta by Lisa Shea

Table of Contents

Poetry


My Relief

John Grey

At last, the relentless ribbon
of traffic can flick off its lights.
The haunting, painful headlamps
no longer need seek out a passage
in the dark cinder-block city
with those wide, searing yellow eyes.
Through the tenement window,
I can see faces behind the wheel,
as sunrise spreads thick and firm,ī
kills the last vampire.

Some of the cars even
pull over to the side of the road
and a man in a gray business suit
buys a newspaper,
a woman adjusts her lipstick in a mirror.

A couple slip from their
medium size, four door version of America,
kiss, then part.
A small child dashes out of
the back seat of a station wagon,
rushes up the front steps of an inner city school.

All night long, I tossed and turned in bed,
as if I was the streets
and all the nameless traffic rolled through me.
Now they are themselves and I am myself.
Itīs daylight. We can make this work.




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