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Alone And In TattersThe moon curls in upon itself, Enfolding the light, Tight into her barren belly. The telly flickers Icy white and bright blue, Casts shadows of my skeletal frame Onto the blank walls of this bedsit room. Alone then, am I, Gazing beyond city chimney stacks At the darkening dome of sky, Shivering In the misty misery of solitude: All my bridges are painted over now, The fields are flooded with salt rain And the cows are no longer milking. |
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This poem is featured in 'The Bad Seed', Dee Rimbaud's first poetry collection, published by Stride in 1998. You can purchase a signed copy by clicking on the book cover image below.
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