Snags

Posted: February 13, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Something gray and infectious

has fallen into human throats.

 

Caught by veins,

those catcher’s mitts, those tiny roots,

 

and carried around

like dandruff.

 

Sir, your eyes are bloodshot!

Sir, you’re retching like a hurricane!

 

Sir! The sun’s been stopped

in the sky!

 

The clouds are hoarding

its light!

 

What a meteoric fall

man’s dug himself into.

 

Whether he’ll live to see

if the sun scorches through

 

those bandages of clouds is another thing.

For now,

 

only the willow’s tendrils move-

the trunk, a headstone.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s