I'm standing on 6'' of tetanus
in a place where the walls tell stories
scattered drill bits, abandoned lives
a company desk.
The artist offers his condolences,
her paint shadowing a bare crib-corner
A frozen Chevrolet curls near the gymnasium,
which echos of Converse treads
The glass box office,
a silent cymbal for hope
has settled for lesser cut-palm dreams
But the generator stands at attention, waiting for the switch
as the devious crystal tube trapt metal treasures tireless dusted kerosene
a switch silent evermore
No comments:
Post a Comment