Night, City
written by: Dah
@dahlusion
An imposing fog comes
with its damp body
flapping like wet skirts
on balcony railings.
Then surveillance by streetlamps
always watching
with their telescope flare
igniting the dark,
making everything small enough
to gather in their sights.
There is concrete density
to the empty roads
like dull flat bones laid out
with oil spittle, grime
and rotting leaves piled
like the wreckage of cars
Even on icy nights the vagrants
leave their cardboard houses
roaming the side streets
searching
for something to own.
Near the flower shop,
the sick and wilted blossoms
tossed out and dying
in the gutter, and the sound
of a street cleaner’s
spinning brushes closing in
with its tornado strength
DAH is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the author of nine books of poetry. DAH lives in Berkeley, California, where he is working on his tenth poetry collection, while simultaneously working on his first collection of short fiction.
Latest posts by Dah (see all)
- Child Cymbals Firecrackers - December 2, 2020
- Fragmented No. 26 - February 18, 2020
- Night, City - November 6, 2019
