Tuesday, November 11, 2003

New Evenings are here

Evenings of damp reeking soil are gone
evenings that spilled blood are gone
evenings of weightlessness are here
evenings full of aimless birds are here
feel unsafe
inside our two thousand square feet
rajasthan marble and plastic flower homes
Shadows fall from all angles
and mock the rising sun-like dial
of our protractors.
they claw on the bare walls
they stretch face down across the empty floors
shadows whom you can call by name
shadows that stop and look when you call,
but whose stares you cant bare.
I put my head back between the knees
and feel the weightlessness
of a soiled and used bale of cotton. slcw