(Nighthawks, Edward Hopper)
Isolation refracts
against reflectionless
glass walls,
caging the hawks
from the night.
Solitude is
sipped slowly,
kissed by lonesome lips,
silenced in
voiceless throats.
They sit
waiting in mute anticipation
for the new machinery of urban life
to produce better,
more efficient answers
to the question of seclusion,
the new industrial solution
to loneliness.
2 comments:
Did you write this one?!
I love it! How great to read some of your work. This is wonderful--"Solitude is/ sipped slowly."
hahaha Thanks, Storialist! I have to confess that you´ve inspired me to add the occasional poem to my blog project. Thanks for reading and for your support!
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