Poetry By Matt Uhler

         Michael Cory CC



I Am Listening
                 For Mike Doughty

It is 5 am
And a man sits on the floor by the drip of
The kitchen sink. His hand on the radio dial 
Finds a station called Sammy one-oh-six-point-nine FM.

It is 5 am
And a woman named Janine
Sings a song about lemons and trees
into the static box at a 24-hour drive-thru.

It is 5 am
And in the car idling at the stop light
A cabby listens to the preacher man.
He bellows and belches about the blood of Christ.

It is 5 am 
And the witness on twenty-third street says
The car was red with gold rims and a sick 
spoiler. It jumped the curb where that other man was sleeping.

It is 5 am
And a long-haired girl on roller skates
Grooves down a darkened shoreline boulevard.
The warm sea crashes on the glassy beach below.

It is 5 am
And a kid with a broken rib
Grabs a starlet by the busted arm
He dreams of screams gone goblin in the night.

It is 5 am
And a woman with soft brown eyes whose name 
Is Aurora, Nurses her baby girl by the yellow porch light –
takes a final drag, flicks a cigarette wild and loose, skyward.

It is 5 am
And I begin to believe that I am 
not well. This city rhythm has made me sick
Blackout drunk on the savagery of Sundays. Alone,

I hear the snare drum tap of the heart snapping back
Not sure how I came to march in this parade,
My soul coughing like a whip crack
It is 5 am. 

And I am listening.

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Matt Uhler is a writer and nonprofit executive currently living in Pennsylvania, but likely on the move. He worked for several years as the Executive Editor at Chelsea House Publishers editing collections of literary criticism with Harold Bloom. In the GeoCities days of the internet, he founded and published a perfect-bound print literary journal called Rafters – that was pretty cool.