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Terrorists under the bed
bed like a state
with no land but the ink
of a great loss
all the clerks in a closet
and the much-cried green dragon
just under this very line
Poems on the topic: terror
Poems on the topic “terror” on Poets.by.
August Sixth
There is a cloud
that shines a color alien to clouds,
and nights are darker than they were.
Blood I have shed
is powder on my memory.
I break on these immortal, broken stones,
and terror's dying haunts my metaphors.
Everybody I have known
is one man waiting on a half-imagined corner
for an unfamiliar face that he has loved.
The color of that cloud is named Goodbye,
for it is raining, shadows, everywhere.
The days have grown as delicate as bones.
The loneliest god in the universe
is walking, and his every word
is possibly goodbye on busy corners.
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