Turn up the volume of the radio.
Roll down the windows. Douse the headlights’ glare.
If you’re awake what harm can darkness do?
There is a guardrail at the curve, although
it’s battered flat. You don’t believe in prayer:
turn up the volume of the radio.
You benefit from gravity, it’s true:
it holds your skittish longing in its care.
If you’re awake what harm can darkness do?
The cliff plunges direct to scree below.
No trees. The mountainside is gray and bare.
Turn up the volume of the radio.
A car accelerates and passes you,
veers, brakes, avoids collision by a hair.
If you’re awake what harm can darkness do?
The crosses at the shoulder make you go
a tad slower. The flowers wither there.
Turn up the volume of the radio.
If you’re awake what harm can darkness do?
Originally from Boston, Andrew Frisardi lives in Orvieto, Italy. His poems, articles, reviews, and translations have appeared in numerous journals and he has published a couple of books of poetry in translation.
