Michael Vitaly

theatre maker, writer, artist

Month: December, 2012

Fog

Fog

Through a veil against the coming day,
bare tree limbs protrude from the smoky white.
Lifeless trees stand yet reach out for the sky.
Some stubborn brown leaves like skeletons hang
to little limbs caught in night’s caresses.

The sky seems tired of being so high,
so throughout the night she must have fallen
to the earth where she remains entangled,
still here — her laced crown and diadem
do keep my thoughts to stolen nights with you.

Like a shroud keeping out the day, you stay
Near to my heart, and envelop my limbs
with heat from your tender sweet caresses.
I remain like the stubborn leaf, a shell
of my former self, soaking in your sky.

 

Taps

20121203-003958.jpg

The white chalk blocks
The wicked electric blue,
The molten orange beneath
And the entrance of you.

I had to offer two beers
In peace when you walked in.

I also threw more wood on the fire.
Two rather skinny pieces as kindling along the sides of the already steady log cabin.
And one long quartered piece besides a small hunk of a mistake,
A split of a split diagonally sliced.

So I looked down at the fire once more,
And saw only shapes and colors and times of day,
And that scarf I picked up
— chartreuse —
The night of our only date.

Someone had left that scarf
A party or two before
And I assumed ownership of if the following morning.
The morning after when I recalled your leaving —
after my rather lascivious display.

I would’ve liked to have been able to tell you how much I enjoyed our date,
But we don’t talk anymore
And I’m too ashamed to say anything
I’m dumb
And see only colors.

The white chalk blocks,
The wicked electric blue,
The molten orange beneath
And the fire’s hottest hues.

20121203-003944.jpg