Flogged and broken, thrown
Out into the storm’s dreary forecast.
Is it just the day’s foreboding future, casting a dark hue
On the water’s misty view?
Pacing with a whore’s luck.
I smell it in the deep of the basement
Pulling on the chain.
Illumination never comes. Starvation eats,
My jaw aches, from the gnawing on the leash.
by Elizabeth A. Hall
(I know it's a bit obscure, I'm not even sure what its about, I vaguely remember writing it...lol )
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2 comments:
Comment comes from Quadsvill.com:
Posted by: reuther on June 13, 2009 8:44AM EST
It calls up lots of imagery for me and feelings of despair.
When the light comes on, darkness prevails in a damp basement. The darkness is within when the basement becomes light. The mind is preoccupied and doesn't "notice" the light but sees the bleak weather as a reflection of conditions within?
wonderful wild poem - with a flicker of light against the chains
(will this comment show on the black background I wonder)
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