Berlin Poem by Andrew James Murray
Berlin
Hanging on the telephone
in a hazy funk.
Ice in a glass.
The words
shape-shifting silver bream,
occasionally
catching the light.
The ice shifts,
tying me down,
caught on a line
encumbered, turbid.
Tasting Berlin: Berlin,
diluted,
hanging on the telephone
in a hazy funk.
Friday, May 3, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: urban,travel
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4/28/2024 1:51:11 PM # 1.0.0.1119
