The Midnight Club Poem by Mark Strand

Mark Strand

Prince Edward Island, Canada

The Midnight Club

Rating: 5.0


The gifted have told us for years that they want to be loved
For what they are, that they, in whatever fullness is theirs,
Are perishable in twilight, just like us. So they work all night
In rooms that are cold and webbed with the moon's light;
Sometimes, during the day, they lean on their cars,
And stare into the blistering valley, glassy and golden,
But mainly they sit, hunched in the dark, feet on the floor,
Hands on the table, shirts with a bloodstain over the heart.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 27 April 2019

But mainly they sit, hunched in the dark, feet on the floor, Hands on the table, shirts with a bloodstain over the heart. a poem on a reality.. and the facts.. tony

1 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 20 December 2018

Fantastic Poem.. The gifted have told us for years that they want to be loved For what they are, that they, in whatever fullness is theirs, Are perishable in twilight, just like us.

0 0 Reply

Mark Strand

Prince Edward Island, Canada
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