Morant Street

Loneliness from her body
Shines like the moon
As she stares at me
From a dark window.

Her bones shine through
Haunted, jaundiced skin,
Radiating the night coming pain
Of her ending self.

The leaves from the Poplar trees
Sweep beneath her window
In the glass dance of silence
Like timid helpless creatures.

Her face of chiselled solitude
Shrunken in hunger of poverty
Her eyes a glass blowers fire
That melts with accusation.

1997

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances. View all posts by blackbird212012