The window melts,
Steam pouring warm,
Nylon throat gagging soap,
My iron beats board impatient to glide out,
Over dust dervish sparrow squabble,
An old man bends a slow jig with the pavement,
His dog ancient and mummified grinds arthritic legs,
Scraping the ground slow as you like,
No hurry time to burn,
Creased sucked screaming back,
A dazed shadow skating on polyester,
Chintz cat dragged sideways the pile engulfing time,
A trail pursues its destroyer,
Darting through carnage and disdain,
I scrape it together,
The clock ticks a metre,
Worn patches grow as I watch,
Outside the endless change,
Separate as a picture.
Fulfilling its purpose,
My epitaph,
She made clothes flat.


Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...


1:29 PM  
Blogger Kitten said...

Hi Sue!
Did you ever find youre kitty?
God, I hope so..Id miss tmine terribly!
Thanks for dropping by..I love what it says under your title...so funny.

To post a comment you just click on "tell me you love me" ate the bottom of the post. Come back soon!
I ll visit you agian , too..great work you have here!

6:40 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Yes he turnd up later in the day, after I'd toured the neibourhood, driven my family mad tearing the house apart. We found him in the wardrobe with a what's all the fuss about expression on his face. Then he came down stairs and ate my flowers. But we love him anyway.

2:34 PM  
Blogger Russell Ragsdale said...

Crystal clear, ruthless world in not too happy eyes! This poem has the strength you can never find in a happy laugh.

5:50 PM  
Blogger iamnasra said...

As your hear ther voices, you get used to be around them...Their voices its part of your routine, till the silence falls, thas when your life turns so empty, then you start wondering where is that voice I use to hear

9:10 PM  

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