A Poem for a Thursday #156

Edward Hirsch is an American poet and critic. He has written many volumes of poetry and several prose volumes. His book How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love With Poetry became an unexpected bestseller. He also had a long-running column in the Washington Post. Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jhumpa Lahiri said of him: “The trademarks of his poems are things I strive to bring to my own writing: to be intimate but restrained, to be tender without being sentimental, to witness life without flinching, and above all, to isolate and preserve those details of our existence so often overlooked, so easily forgotten, so essential to our souls.”

Like a stunned piano, like a bucket
of fresh milk flung into the air
or a dozen fists of confetti
thrown hard at a bride
stepping down from the altar,
the stars surprise the sky.
Think of dazed stones
floating overhead, or an ocean
of starfish hung up to dry. Yes,
like a conductor's expectant arm
about to lift toward the chorus,
or a juggler's plates defying gravity,
or a hundred fastballs fired at once
and freezing in midair, the stars
startle the sky over the city.

And that's why drunks leaning up 
against abandoned buildings, women
hurrying home on deserted side streets,
policemen turning blind corners, and 
even thieves stepping from alleys
all stare up at once. Why else do
sleepwalkers move toward the windows,
or old men drag flimsy lawn chairs
onto fire escapes, or hardened criminals
press sad foreheads to steel bars?
Because the night is alive with lamps!
That's why in dark houses all over the city
dreams stir in the pillows, a million
plumes of breath rise into the sky.

In Spite of Everything, the Stars
Edward Hirsch