Slouching, a poem

Limp fog dangles over
Street lights and rolling
Headlights, in brittle,
Soot-like night.

Pin-top buildings pierce their
Stillness through the fog’s
Hunches, slipping down walls
Like melting snow.

The tabletop city stirs
As the cloth-fog becomes
Wrenched away for its
Sun-burst wash.

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5 thoughts on “Slouching, a poem

  1. Pingback: January poems | Frambles

  2. Pingback: January poems | Frambles

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