Merciless City
MERCILESS CITY
Grimy city blocks worn and cold are lost
In rusted steel and roots of permafrost.
Faintly emerging from the gloom hazily misted,
The crane’s spire is a ship’s mast listed
In an ice-fog off Baffin’s distant northwest coast -
A crooked sky-hook reduced to ghost.
Barely seen, swirling in an icy grimace,
A patch of whiter fog hides the sun’s bright face.
The distant cars disappear and are lost without pity,
Trying to escape the cold shoulder of the city.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written today on a January morning in St. Petersburg,Russia.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2012
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