HEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
- And along the trampled edges of the street
- I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
- Sprouting despondently at area gates.
- The brown waves of fog toss up to me
- Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
- And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
- An aimless smile that hovers in the air
- And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
lunes, 20 de octubre de 2014
lunes, 13 de octubre de 2014
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)