by Ben Nardolilli
A brassy sunrise bounces off the rooftops,
my gaze retreats to the courtyard
where the forces of night hold out in the shade,
all the windows there are still and empty
impatient hands in the street send volleys
of noise over my lunar walls,
each one an alarm, a call to rise and follow
into the sterilized registers of the marketplace
meanwhile, golden outlines are pouring over
the chimneys, gutters, and spouts
as the sun breaks the siege and breaches
this citadel where morning was once a rumor
Ben Nardolilli is a MFA candidate at Long Island University. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Door Is a Jar, The Delmarva Review, Red Fez, The Oklahoma Review, Quail Bell Magazine, and Slab. Follow his publishing journey at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com.
