These poets
Who read at home
Wait long
Till the lightning
Trembles
And evening
Begins its thunder
To find reasons
Worth being
Alone

Defining
Fate through words
As far as their mind
Can venture
Like weather
Still making them
Quiver
At sounds
Of a rain
Which breaks

In night
Through clouds
That pass
Blanketing skies
Amidst darkness
Wet as fears
Unrelenting
Remembering storms
Are their
Prayers

Recalled
Like puddles by name
As remnants
Of scattering pages
From notebooks
Which jaded
Those voices
By tearing them
Up
Without chance

Exposed
To the crowd
Which laughs
Gaining
A gift so relentless
With phrases
Ripe for the taking
Where lessons
Lay
Among ash

Cause beauty
Doesn’t pay
These bills
Or meaning support
Second guesses
When braving
The margins unfiltered
Of blessings
Burned
Beyond black –

Lifetimes
Guarded with rage
Within
Closed worlds
Of their choosing
To imprison
Hail
Behind windows
Upon old walls
Showing cracks

Scratching
That clearest need
And talent
To quietly witness
What passes
For threats
They can’t handle
But shyly
Admire
Through glass.

– J. Pigno