The trail of moonlight licks
at my cell floor upon its arrival,
bathing the night's children as they
scurry across my withering leg, fleeing
to find refuge in the shelter of darkness,
calculating spoils thieved from
my rusted and crude plate.
I sit, aimlessly flicking my eyes to
the motion of a moth, mastering
its ability to smack against cracked cell lights.
Its determination so impressive, my hands
might clap to its loyal search for ultimate salvation,
twisted within a hot fuse and a glass case.
Ambition blinds this winged warrior,
who drives into a barrier, leaving
behind cinnamon-colored dust trails, with each
snap of its body to a current of shrinking electricity.
My stomach as empty as my soul,
I wish I had sold the latter for a purpose,
like my silent, fluttering friend above me.
The proprietor of an admirable goal.
My hand slides across sand and stone,
fingers prowling for those who fell
before this new contender in a tireless battle.
Never learning a lesson from the creatures who,
despite their valiant effort struggled in vain,
now lie beside me, in a ruin of their remains.
2 comments:
The writing is good.
The imagery is good.
My only complaint is the lack of personalization.
'Write what you know' is a cliche because its true. That doesn't mean you have to write your autobiography, but it does mean you should connect with experiences or emotions that you know solidly.
If you could apply your talent to something more personal I thing it could prove wonderful.
- L
i agree--the imagery is delightful!
i get the sense you are more intimate with the "other" in this poem but you are vauge about them for some reason. it would be more powerful if you were less vauge and more confrontive or intimate or some other word i can't think of.
stace*
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