Dawn- A poem.

Fog cuts the city—
zigzagged lines of unskilled hands
that first picked up a saw.

Like the mirror,
broken above the sink.
But you can still see lines that bisect
and twist across your face.

Everything is muffled.
The type of silence you only sing about.

Featured Image by Benedikt S. Vogler under Creative Commons.

Advertisements

Categories: poetry

Tagged as: , , ,

Thoughts? Comments? Let me know...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s