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Literature Text
Ten pairs of
twin tin walls
expected to reflect
only
refract
the sound of your voice when you talk
to an abandoned domicile.
To hear threatening words
distorted by paranoia
and the calming hum of the interstate
or the buzz
from the telephone poles.
You told me
you felt like a lineman.
You told me
a
direct
linear current
was guiding your shaking hand.
You thought
that it was God.
I told you
that the only Gods are the ones you can see in the mirror.
I was wrong.
There's a bloodsucker in the sky.
I just wonder how he handles the daylight.
twin tin walls
expected to reflect
only
refract
the sound of your voice when you talk
to an abandoned domicile.
To hear threatening words
distorted by paranoia
and the calming hum of the interstate
or the buzz
from the telephone poles.
You told me
you felt like a lineman.
You told me
a
direct
linear current
was guiding your shaking hand.
You thought
that it was God.
I told you
that the only Gods are the ones you can see in the mirror.
I was wrong.
There's a bloodsucker in the sky.
I just wonder how he handles the daylight.
new poem.
© 2006 - 2024 StormCloudMao
Comments2
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part of this seems to be you having disregarded the power/truth of what "you" had to say. they seemed to understand something deeper and you said don't believe in anything more than what you can see. it seems they have a 'deeper' goal. I like it a lot; I see a silver junkyard full of dull silver dusk and a dull white sun. a pale yellow droan in the auditory imagery while the visual remains dull silver.