Glass Rose (Moan Of The Night) Poem by Eric Cockrell

a glass rose
shattered on the bare floor...
tiny pieces glinting

in the late evening light.
an old photograph,
half burned in the ashtray...

hand on fire,
slips down, fingers enter
where faces disappear.

a small crucifix,
the breeze slips through the window,
picking up the scent,

staggers as if drunk.
the cruelty of the door,
the latch, and the shadow...

that laughs as it closes
the book and turns away...
a glass rose,

and the moan of the night!