How would our neighbors feel if we woke
in the night and painted the houses gold,
every house on the street shining, temples

ablaze in April’s gentle sun?  What if we
banished beige in the furnace heat
of atomic light?  What would they say

if our civil gardens exploded
with poppies, and jasmine, and blue
lily blooms?  How would that lotus riot

rattle their walls?  Would their dogs howl
at ultraviolet music wailing from galaxies
hurtling apart, songs ripped from the throat of flame? 

Steve Klepetar

If you have any comments on this poem, Steve Klepetar   would be pleased to hear them.