A Hammer Blow of Snow
Fangs blackened by a tooth-aching light,
dagger down from clamped
and sunken roofs.
What wreckage there is, is buried
hidden from sight, but it is not
a clean landscape. Not a landscape at all,
but a giant footprint,
more a
reconstruction of destruction.
What was once seen as a town
is gone. Not forever (drama makes
actors of us all), but we talk now
in a past tense language of 'back then'
and not of any postcard view of tomorrow -
not yet.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
