November 2017
Robert K. Johnson
choirofday@cs.com
Born in New York City (in Elmhurst), I lived in several different places there but have memories only of The Bronx (off Fordham Road). Then my family moved out "on The Island"—to Lynbrook, where we stayed till I graduated from Hofstra (then a College). Several years after my wife, Pat, and I married, we, plus our two children, settled in the Boston area and have remained there (except for my daughter, Kate, who has lived in Manhattan for quite a while). I have been writing poetry since I was twelve (many moons ago).

​COME MORNING


The first one awake
in our household, when I enter
the silent kitchen
                    I'm stopped

by the layer of sunlight
that covers the row of tins
lined up along the counter,
that burnishes the dust on a shelf
of aging cookbooks, shines the silver
on the faucets, toaster, breadbox,
and glistens the place mats that lie waiting
on the breakfast table,

                    and I'm as reluctant
to touch anything
as I'd be to move the objects
in a painting by Vermeer.

previously published in REACH POETRY



WHEN I AWAKE TOMORROW

​
Like a restaurtant's
between-courses treat
that cleanses the palate
of what came before, 

let the dawn light
purge my mind
of my past's
bad-tasting moments

so I can still better
enjoy
the brightening day
served to me 
                    now.
©2017 Robert K. Johnson
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