ComfortA Poem by Gene Von BanyardDay Light. An ashen heart is mounted ceremoniously upon a bare, brick wall. Above, a Cathode Grey sky, below, barely tended grass. The hands move and the heart bleeds as history plays its lachrymose tune on a harp string of nerves and delirium.
Night Light. ”Buy you a drink?” Direct look, pretend surprise. Emotions criss-cross neon signs and aluminum furniture. Confessions naught a pressurized comfort zone.
Day Light. Catharsis begins anew as penance continues in the prosaic cottage.
Ghost Light. We continue to bloom spent epiphanies in this haunted house whilst stomaching the futility of urban invocation. Acorns are now out of season states the patriarch. The children go sweetly blind in radioactive harmony.
Dead Light.
© 2015 Gene Von Banyard |
Stats
61 Views
Added on September 18, 2015 Last Updated on September 18, 2015 Author
|