The avenue beats a discordant symphony.

Street lamps circle dim around the moths.

Terriers strut tethered taut to widows’ wrists.

Teamsters haul their loads up to the docks.

Far off sirens race beneath an ash-filled sky.

Jane packs up her empty can and pleading signs,

Warms her suckling daughter at her breast

And wheels her stroller to the bridge.

                        ~ ~ ~

12 Replies to “Murky”

  1. I feel a strong sense of place in this. It felt like NY or the New Jersey docks, perhaps somewhere close to the Brooklyn Bridge. But I suppose it could be any big city. I felt the homelessness and a sense of despair. Quite evocative.

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