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Vacancies
by Bruce W NiedtThe high-rise, gutted for renovation,
stripped down to the frame,
empty beehive,
glowers darkly in mid-evening.
Wicked wind comes up from the north,
snaps plastic sheets pulled across the façade,
protective, translucent as cataracts.
This buffeting of plastic
creates loud percussions that can be heard
even across the highway,
like hundreds of ghosts beating
against drumskin walls
wanting to get out, or wanting
someone new to come in. 04/05/2004 Posted on 04/05/2004
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 04/05/04 at 01:40 PM Nice urban vibe to this one. Well done. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/05/04 at 06:22 PM Text and title superbly reflect and compliment one another. Fine poem...read Bruce! |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 04/05/04 at 07:57 PM Great sights and sounds in this! An eerie ending that befits the emptiness of the space. |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 04/06/04 at 08:25 PM Ooh very eerie...the 'vacancies' here are felt through all the 'sights' in this piece, "gutted...stripped....empty" and the 'sounds' multiply this effect through visions of bouncing reverberations, "snap...loud precussions...beating...walls" - there is an absence here that stems from the lack of human touch and presence in the poem. That's how I saw it. Great read, thanks :-) |
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