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The Hook
by Kerowyn Rosea faceless window
looks out
at a slow rain.
the car runs like
desolation.
what do dark
sidewalks
eat?
echoes of
footfalls perhaps,
or maybe dandelion
exclamations.
far from the running,
never buy a door.
the cold street
roughly
loves the girl.
the noisy corner grows
quiet
like a dead guy.
tiny skin bumps
raise with shivers.
anticipation
ferments under
streetlamps.
12/21/2012 Posted on 12/21/2012
Copyright © 2024 Kerowyn Rose
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 12/24/12 at 01:12 AM ...i got it. gal, this is taller than tall. what you do/did with memind. grins here. |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 12/29/12 at 07:06 PM I like this very much! You have created an urgency and simultaneity from something that seems desolate. It also has something of a "prophesy" tinge to it, yet it is quite alone, very alone in the world. Just excellent. Thank you. |
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