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POEM – Cross Hairs

By Gandolph St. Clair

A while ago, I was sitting on the step

Outside the Walcott House. Staggering

Lightning, above the Ave Maria, stroked

By a busy wind, through high tension

Wires, in the dimly lit street on a silent

Night. The choir had gone home, yet

Memory sauntered, in the form of dying

People on oxygen, before the morphine

Aborts the heart beat and searing pulse

Of pending political promise of employment.

Mosquitos and fire flies following shopping

Bags, as the smell of processed alcohol

Evaporates from the brush strokes, oil

The gutter, as the city’s scavengers, working

The shift’s final hour, before the racing rain

Drenches the null neo Nazis, KKK, alt-right

Recumbent racists, rambunctious rats gathering

In the safe passages of the sheltered halls;

A new generation impacts as evening calls.

 

Gandolph St. Clair © (p) September 7, 2017

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