She was good, wasn't she?
Beyond the latest crash and bang
and pink lips' muffled howl
lies a world of the dead,
of deep sand and shabby dogs
with motes of dust for eyes.
Her skeleton rests uneasy
against a wheel of sand.
In its cage of sun-bleached
ribs, there waits a crimson bird
whose smoked-glass eyes inquire.
When were you a man?
3 days ago
3 comments:
That is brilliant. I think it is my favourite poem of yours I have read, full, alive, wonderful tone.
' cage of sun-bleached ribs ' is predictable - almost telly. The poem could do with some more surprises. Good one otherwise. I would also suggest hyphenating ' pink lips''. Why 'crimson' bird? I found 'wheel of sand' beautiful. I will attribute a need for symmetry to it, otherwise I cannot understand the reason for the space between the last two lines.
Thanks, Paul.
LOL Ravi, you crack me up.
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