Friday, 2 March 2012

Night Disturbance

There’s a sound that means no good:
someone wrecking something,
in the front yard, metallic scraping.

A kicking, cursing goblin-crumpling sound.

The next thought is the car.
Why does she never lock it?

Pull back the curtain.
Nothing but the shivering street
glistening with orange rain.

Look for the tell-tale sign,
glow of the interior light.

Nothing but dead car
empty yard, lines
of long shadows, night.

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