Workshop

The Wait

  Night has fallen
His spirit overflows
into the road
Death jumps at him
He squats down so it can pass
A river of rain coils around him
His stomach, a gaping gate, knocks
No answer to his hunger pains
Shadows stronger than he,
Stand cut and shaped
like his natural urges
The future waits curled and dry.
Only his spirit knows where
A hole in the water is
He is barely able to say 'I am here.' 

09-Dec-2000

More by :  MaryAnn Harrison

Top | Workshop

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