11-09-2013, 03:25 AM
City Statue
With an air of grace she stands alone -
A glimmer of wetness on her face,
Years of weather have cracked her wings,
Sheath and urn long matted with moss,
Her speckled eyes full of age, full of loss.
So fragile she looks from this angle,
Though a clumsy man with awkward feet
Fails to cause her to loose balance.
This man means her no harm.
He comes each day eating sour fruit
That sets his teeth on edge, his
Hands ink-darked by the morning's news -
A man who's lost much, with little more to lose.
An islander whose heart is an island of fear,
With spare speech quiet as if strained through silk,
Haunted by those who were never here.
He sets up his chess set, two queens first
And plays both sides alone into the night.
With an air of grace she stands alone -
A glimmer of wetness on her face,
Years of weather have cracked her wings,
Sheath and urn long matted with moss,
Her speckled eyes full of age, full of loss.
So fragile she looks from this angle,
Though a clumsy man with awkward feet
Fails to cause her to loose balance.
This man means her no harm.
He comes each day eating sour fruit
That sets his teeth on edge, his
Hands ink-darked by the morning's news -
A man who's lost much, with little more to lose.
An islander whose heart is an island of fear,
With spare speech quiet as if strained through silk,
Haunted by those who were never here.
He sets up his chess set, two queens first
And plays both sides alone into the night.