Night's Scavengers

Rating: 4.0
These scavengers for wood beside the Thames,
I take in their glutinous, brown, tar-like stink.
In the sieve of their thick, matted hair,
They trap all the dirt and the darkness of London.
Their exile shelters, nurtures them in silence.
I too am a scavenger,
I too am an exile ,
Looking to join them,
Born again,
A scavenger of words beside the Thames.
But their exile is deeper than mine.
I see their make-shift shelters from the rain -
Boxes, slumped against concrete walls -
And how they coil inside,
Intoxicated spirits,
Eyelids heavy with numbness.
For warmth, I squat in a phone booth, staring out.
A sparrow of ice alights.
A woman's lips leave a promise on the glass.
My palm throbs between cheek and pillow.
The smell of weaning plugs my nostrils.
I hear the gentle swish-swish of autumn foliage.
A train on some nearby platform sighs.
A suitcase hesitates to move.
Friday, May 23, 2014
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

2/25/2021 5:25:09 AM # 1.0.0.504