streetsweeperA Poem by Geneticstar
streetsweeper Along crumbling shadows and alleyway corridors I am the cat’s tongue washing the asphalt impossible faces of cities -- and there I have found that the ghost of
blood lingers
where blood has long since flaked away and been thrown to the
wind -- the cyclic recurrence of memory and then: winter comes -- and each night a lace frost cocoons around
windows, stretches out over
concrete -- its prying fingers threading towards soft
loam and
disintegration A dry rain rolls over the gutterbabies with the day’s sweat from hot brick sides of skyscrapers, metal rattling down their throat as the moon rises over the city: the illuminate elbow of god propped against men’s
fancies. I
find my babe in the rainwash tonight, and I am a ragdoll father -- while I kiss her face blue runs from her eyes like oil, and she nods when I
say, "Do you hear the city?" black wings beating against the
sky. Over
the crook of my arm her eyes fall back and I know she is watching. This is how we hold one another: tenuous in the silence after movement like echoes in pipeline. From the roof-edge of the highest building its lights popping on like a scattered chorus of fireflies -- I hold her out to the hazy red opening sun. As you are trying to catch the dark air your feathered arms, I see the city reach for your
seamless body, and gather you, as gently as a child
as you fall. © 2011 Geneticstar |
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2 Reviews Added on December 27, 2011 Last Updated on December 27, 2011 Tags: melancholy, dense, spiritual, transcendent, death, rebirth, savior, gritty, childlike, mourning AuthorGeneticstarKatuah BioregionAboutWriter-reader-poet-mythologist since an early age. Agnostic, seeking, spiritual, privileged. more..Writing
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