Harpy
by Lee Garrett
Thursday, November 21, 2002
 Share
 Print  Save  Become a Fan
Alone--
In dusty winds
atop the rubble
of unintended ruin--
the harpy nestles
in her angst
while travelers,
weary of her pranks
no longer clap
in timidation
as she warbles stridently,
this sour-voiced matron
blames the failure
of her career
on the deafness of
her audience, and I fear
She scourges herself
with regret,
blaming her own heart
Instead of the hole
in her head.
She sings,
(if one may call it that)
painting the night
a trillion shades
of blue.
The world has gone away,
and I think I'll go there too.
|
Bookmarks