Friday 30 November 2012

#61 - Wednesday Mourning

Dressed in black and glum as mutton,
Tuesday's cadaver on our shoulders
as we trudge down the line of houses.

The dawn throws lanky shadows
like tripwires; like tripwires, we hang
between yesterday and tomorrow,

snagging ankles, rattling clappers
in old, old bells. A spaniel perks up,
mistaking our burden for a giant bone,

or then again, perhaps the mistake
is not his, but ours.

No comments:

Post a Comment