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Get a copy of this writing in the Mark Fleury 2017 poetry book the Eight Wheeled Doorway of Serpent’s Head on line:

The Dawn Has Its Own Anger

Mark Fleury

The dawn has its own anger,
And visions of violins
That sound like iced doorways leading to rain.

Alcohol and tobacco have heavens
That mask anger too,

With none of the terraces that
Open from death’s dance after
A night of opera and romance.

The sky, traumatized by the sun,
Has its own eyes of island natives.

And Christmas has its hatreds, reindeer
That intimidate and interrupt

Snow, falling while trying to land on
Bails of hay outside of the stables.

The ache of heaven is nowhere but in

The whiteness
That the animals lick
And lick from the youths
Of their journeys, broken

From the clouds. Wounds.

The bags of toys remain,
Like apples, until the next day,

When God’s eye
Informs kept easts

That the night is beneath them.

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