An Old Factory in Footscray
It has stood abandoned for years,
the toxic soil too costly
for developers to clean up.
It's vast, dark, gutted interior
echoes an absence.
And yet a tuft of grass
has pushed up through the oil
soaked concrete floor beneath
a shaft of sunlight falling
from a hole in the ceiling.
It grows on this narrow stage,
a thin beam of light enough
to sustain it and drip a little
moisture down for it to sip.
It clings onto life
as a poem does, pushing
through a crack in the soul,
seeking out enough light
for it to live for awhile
in a hostile world.
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.
