Stir Of Echoes Poem by Charles Malcolm

Stir Of Echoes



Ghosts
on every corner.
My gut sours
and bile claws its way up my throat.
Still unable to duck their gaze.

'The kid cowering next to a dumpster
begging for mercy.
Hogs and honey
looming over the black women
down on the railroad tracks.
The florist a block south
of your first apartment.
The shredded bed sheet
dangling from my door frame,
and the snow bank that pardoned me.'

'I'm sorry, baby, ' she whispers.

'Don't be. It was my fault.'

She touches my hand. 'I know.'

'I miss you so much, '
I say to an empty passenger seat.

Monday, July 27, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: chicago,loneliness,love
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success