I retch from the
scratch of claws - such
callow usage foxes my
sense, my
ability to relay memory
into love - do I deserve
such baseness such
cruelty such dovetailed
cynicism from eyes
precluding me from
their experience thier
unity?  Such a hard
yellow stare, uncaring
and grinning as sin -
ringing me in and
all I feel is the ice floe
the lack of kin - these
young beauteous beings
hard-eyed, hard-skinned,
hard-hearted, tin-
souled - how they
ring me, how their
barbs pierce my skin.
Ever moving on they are
the deserting ones, dragging
dry sand in their wake -
slaking no-one's thirst
they make drought, make
another life worse.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem