Echo Chills
it was good
as at the door,
a skull behind which
there was nothing more
than warm morning air, and
a rumbling sound of despair
hunger by the drive-way
for a soul, cold storage
awhile already spent
as rent, for now
nothing due
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.