Sunday, 8 February 2015

Smugglers

The wind rattles the doors,
shakes the windows.

Its hollow breath booms
in the throat of the chimney.

It blows in through the eaves,
the midnight slots
where pieces of the bricks
that complete the puzzle
that is a house are missing.

The same black squares
where starlings
smuggle their dazzle
and stash it in the dark.

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