Oil
Its beak is just above the black mud,
head resting on the thick sludge.
One black eye looks at us.
There is no accusation in that gaze,
no recriminatory stare
not even a plea for rescue.
Only that dimming lens,
that looks now,
at a clean patch of sky
as if it were God.
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.
