Sunday, August 16, 2015

One Minute to Midnight: A Poem


Dust blankets the ground
toxic snow in June
The clocks have stopped ticking,
the voices have been swallowed by the air
Midnight approaches
huddled underground, 
hidden from the lights
that strobe in the sky
glued to one another
as though your hearts are tied
You wait.

No comments:

Post a Comment