On the bench wet
On the bench
wet moss dwelling
as a parasite on the hair of the dog
Seeking in vain for a small area for food court in this silence there
There is no soul in this jungle of houses
the only bench occupied by the old moss
wrinkled
now decaying
The sour smell of death and advances
fetid
you and with you, who walked alongside
clutching scraps of life now lost.
wet moss dwelling
as a parasite on the hair of the dog
Seeking in vain for a small area for food court in this silence there
There is no soul in this jungle of houses
the only bench occupied by the old moss
wrinkled
now decaying
The sour smell of death and advances
fetid
you and with you, who walked alongside
clutching scraps of life now lost.
Sabrina Vian (6/22/2010)
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