Marco Chies Poet Free verse

Zero

June sixteenth,
seven o'clock am,
twelve degrees and blue sky,
a hundred birds perched on the roofs,
my two eyes fixed on the window,
looking at the train passing at a thousand kilometers an hour,
the first that every eight accurate minutes
will pass with his ten compositions,
at any of the twenty-two stations
created six months ago,
after eighteen years of delayed works,
fourteen workers killed,
and millions missing
In the four pockets of a dishonest politician.

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L Milton Hankins May 18, 2022 at 7:23 PM Powerful words presented with sharp images, Marco. And, an indictment of the careless handling of real lives by those who are supposed to serve. Good writing. Marco Chies May 18, 2022 at 7:29 PM Thank you very much Milton. I spread numbers throughout the verses, with the intention of creating a sense of quantity, of value...