Quickly shadows come
on the window sill and over the
Soon it is the song of the wind chimes
as birds fly low.
Crows talk and walk across the
vacant road. Flowers
get ready to lose their colour as petals
depart as butterflies would from their stems. The head
of a child is peering around some drapes while grownups
bring candles from the basement.
City cats curl under cars and bumblebees are still.
There is a sharp curve of the sky and a streak of shocking white
like a line across a blank chalkboard.
Doors and screens are closed, as pigeons and squirrels
cover their nests, blind to all but the pressing
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Torrid Literature – Erosion Anthology”
You can listen to the poem by…
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