The Spot - Poem by Mike Finley
Stars, ignore the crimes occurring
like catfights under the windows.
Sometimes we're ashamed
of what goes on in the alley,
the things we overturn
and track into the house.
If we were cats we'd know
when to move on.
The pastures of glass we pretend to forget
are always browsing at our heels.
The beauty of most men's universe
is a spot of oil on a rainy street.
Sun and moon, leave off
If you were wise, I doubt
you would carve us our shadows.
All of us humans scratch at the screeen.
We want what is ours.
You look down, the moon looks down,
everyone looks down these days.
All of us claim what
we spot at our feet.
Comments about The Spot by Mike Finley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye