poems | allegra osati

poem eighty nine.

the shame of sitting alone at a stoplight the quiet isolation enclosed by a blanket of rain drenched by torrential memory

a starchy sweater tumbles dry shrinking like distant memories

jazz a chaotic ballet of sound like traffic it weaves to a destination predicated by the journey

i only remember the quiet when i can’t quite focus on what i’m looking at

a man his eyes rolling pins sat squatting on a bench in a seurat painting

i awoke notes etched on the inside of my skull words knocking on my brain floating in the space between memories