Bracing
These
are the lean ones
the
drawn out months of winter
hands
down your back
and
fingers in purse
these
are the days the songbirds disperse
the
nights thin and long
as
unsnapped spaghetti
and
I am drawn
once
again to the scourge of our towns
and
the smoke filled cities
in
all of their colours
blue
greens and browns
and
as the sun goes down
the
haze descends over both eyes
and
horizon
dim
as the days I have lost to the eiderdown
I
finger my wallet
thinner
than fish bones
I
can’t afford to throw
away
on a wish or toss onto the wheelbarrow
where
the dry stalks of autumn lie
cracked
and cadaverous
my
will thaws like frost
as
the sun reaches mid-heaven
I
am no stone
my
trust instantly given
as
though hope changed the world
I
brace myself for the let down
No comments:
Post a Comment