Tuesday 5 August 2014

1 New Poem

Brittle Bones

All those times in the tangle of taxi stand
flickers, the in-out of Manhattan and Uptown
imagination; just some sidecar street in
a town of half-suited data punch cards,
in truth, I held hands close, waiting
graceless.

Ruminations cooled in dinette set embrace,
each piece embittered and chipped to edge,
handled with utter care, but ever indifferent
in the place we sat as unconvinced
etchings of two people who spent the
night,

and tonight these airs alone may well
pierce skin.

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