Phototrope
Daybreak. Turning
in bed I reach out
to emptiness. Every day
begins in darkness.
Every night in dreams
I open up to you
too late and wilt
and wake up twisted,
a broken flower
searching in vain
for the morning sun.
Paul Bernstein, in previous lives, was a graduate student in medieval history, library worker/antiwar activist/weekend hippie/aspiring poet, radical journalist, medical editor, and managing editor of a medical journal. He resumed writing poetry some fifteen years ago. Recent work has appeared in Big River Poetry Journal, River Poets Review, Poetry Quarterly, Front Porch Review, U.S. 1 Worksheets, Magic Lantern and elsewhere. He currently lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where he participates regularly in open mic readings.
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