Tuesday, July 21, 2009

This Town VIII (I Can't Remember)

dawn breaks
in time for dusk,

pulls a scab back,
reveals the rawness
of flesh exposed
beneath pot-holed

each drop of oil
leaves its mark,
ready to burn,
while smog creeps
in, settles to rest
at the feet of ancient
streets covered
with tar and dust,

grass gives rise
to an orange haze
that makes its way
into the bloodstream,
colours the sky
a sickly shade of red

this town
can't remember

and neither
can I


  1. This poem moved me, and by that i mean it gave me the heebie-jeebies. But isn't that a good thing? The scab reference was what got me, it was extremely... potent.