Thursday, November 03, 2005

The Gathering

The neighbourhood nonentities gather
To attack, their faces distorted,
Contorted. Muffled explosions
Their words clatter

Through these sedate suburbs
And they reach me, lying,
Ashen, in my bed, dying of T.B.
They create carnage

And their venom pulsates
And penetrates the thick dusk
The heavy curtains
And my own narcissism.


Post a Comment

<< Home