The Red Garter Poem by Tamara Beryl Latham
The Red Garter
We moved through a city
whose neon lights
flash life on the street,
(obscure to some
yet visible to all)
whose lampposts:
leveled in concrete,
traffic red and green
for blue satin and black lace.
And the red garter,
delectation of some,
tombstone for others,
lies stiff on the curb.
Monday, May 25, 2026
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The red light district of any big city,
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/24/2026 8:39:24 AM # 1.0.0
The curb does tell tales if we pause long enough to listen.
You have spoken the truth, Fred. I'm elated you were able to sort it out. : -)
And I agree with your assessment one hundred percent. Thanks for your input.: -)