It came to my attention a little while ago that it's national poetry month. Well, what better excuse to post some of my unique poetry.
The Hand
Out of place, defunct, still in the centre:
By spring-time, cobbled stones and stately street,
The baths will stand. I note their shape, just glancing—
A gesture worth more effort than regard—
While moving by with constant, unchecked pace.
Around the structures nameless people shift
About their way; a thousand well-dressed statues,
Exclusively today: they live in sight,
But die outside periphery. And still,
To stare is wrong; a micro-transaction
With no foreseeable return. So long
As time and grace holds minds so far apart—
While the clutching commerce enthrals the throng—
Economy demands investment in our art.
No comments:
Post a Comment