Untitled 2.

Embers and flesh – light
crept in through gritty city windows,
night shapes loped along the street below.

She shared shackles with him –
her words licked their wounds raw,
and he was stricken, alive with the ache.

In shock he cast her out of the flames
where she danced a staggering pirouette,
lithe in love – depraved in gusts of her wilderness.

As he lay, she looked on:
she spied unfeigned – a parody of a man
exhausted with the projections he’d thrown.

In the squalid light of an urban sunrise
she saw him, a jaded specter –
struggling in his skin while he dreamt.

So she slept, she leapt to the moon –
the grey leering goon, paling in the day;
and died awake, hollowing a shallow grave.


2 thoughts on “Untitled 2.

  1. reminds me of one of eliot’s 4 quarters – part of it: where he comes across the ghost in the twilit city. unsure about the rhyme in line 2, but : alternately dark & brilliant images.


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