A Delicate Emergency

In Poetry on November 14, 2011 at 2:53 am

The tiny bacteria feed
on tiny bacteria feeding.

The teardrops hide in slivered ducts,
ready at a moment’s notice.

Everyday, the back and forth,
the swing of arms and legs
and testicles choked in clothing.

Above these wooden floorboards,
where the back aches are caused by over comfort,

I have the choice of music,
books, sleep and heating.

I still cannot bear the
unkempt lilting of my dreams
while Moving goes untangling
a future in the sky.

Flesh is not a tireless
shelter and I don’t know
for sure that all my sounds
will one day be rewarded

with the meaning’s delicate emergency:
all the clippings, all the little
light-bent things and falling seeds,

all that goes growing out
beneath the bright gray sphere of Heaven
with Its’ quiet bends of sky
forever arcing free of empathy!

Michael Ceraso was born in the Ivory Coast to an Italian father from Milano and an Irish American mother from Brooklyn.  After leaving Africa as an infant, he lived in Italy, Haiti and Georgia before returning to his mother’s hometown.  Raised in Queens, New York, he currently works in the administration at the City University of New York at Queens College, where he hopes to begin an MFA in poetry in Fall 2012.  His poems have been published in Third Wednesday, Suisun Valley Review, Poetry Super Highway, Askew Poetry Journal and elsewhere.  He has poetry forthcoming in The Copperfield Review’s Fall 2011 edition, as well as the Fall 2011 edition of Utopia Parkway, a Queens College CUNY Literary Journal.


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