Bleak Hollow Poem by Richard D Remler

......



The street is ashen black,
Its asphalt inked so dark
Its original shade is lost
Into the nothingness
That is today.

The air is thick,
Like burial smoke,
Scented heavy
With chipped bone
And burned rubber
And forgotten clothing
Half eaten by fire.

The factory is closed,
Abandoned,
Claimed by decay.
A home now
For the shades
And shadows
That haunt what little
Is left behind.

The two children
Dragging the wooden crate
Seem oblivious
To the taste
Of today,
Never once chasing the
Black and greenflies away
From their prize.
It moves in the crate,
Fur matted in blood

And dirt and death.
And it breathes
Something,
And the two children
Pull at the box
Until they disappear into
The shadows
Of the long buildings
Where they will feast.

And watch the ashes fall
From a milky sky...



Copyright © MMX Richard D. Remler