Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Gray (Poem 253)

with birds scuttling like mice
in the mounds of graying leaves
packed under the bushes
and sleek clouds slurping 
every last drop of sunshine from 
the day    great hunched shoulders
of a rough-hewn mountain range
braced against the wind like people tumbling down Market Street 
at the far end of a Tuesday in March 
their black umbrellas bleached by
the rain and fighting their handlers
with stark ferocity    and the shawl 
of shimmering yet lethal stones set 
in concrete around the swimming pool
as if chosen with a particularly
horrid child in mind 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

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