Last Sounds Poem by Brian Sonberg
Last Sounds
The world seems smaller
in its cricket sounds
branches close like a blanket
don't comfort me
the highway breathes consolation
I sulk my relief
fallen as the sun rises
tire screech
was you last word
taillights fade to blurs
in tears
necessity scattered
life forgot them
lips now abrasive
old skin sleeps
new skin's softness
warmth for the weak
worms for the soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/10/2024 6:54:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
