Ragged Claws

Whether ’tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.
.                                             (Robert Frost)

I turn to you – to the wallpaper side
of the bed: A wall of fading roses
on yellowing fake brocade; a dying
dream of people now long gone,
to turn a drab, Party approved apartment
into something close to
fin de siècle decadent and gay.

I turn to you – like ghosts
seek out the world of flesh: Like curtains,
shivering with doubt, are torn between
the dark of night and all the quiet,
changing places where the light
will gather in strange convocations,
from which all life and dreams are borne.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 13th, 2009 at 1:58 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.