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Bump in the Night
February 29, 2012
Street lights flicker
The mobs digress
Under the blanket of night
The city rests.
And out creep the roaches,
With no direction or plan,
To paint the town red
With slick, grimy hands.
In a labyrinth of alleys
They’ll never be found
As they wait in the shadows
While the sun inches down.
And when the very last ray
Is pulled out of sight;
When the city again
Is drowned by a sea of night,
Nothing louder than a skitter
Will fill the air
And the dank drowsy atmosphere
Will reek of despair
Until the light returns,
Along with blinding pain
Of revealing what is left;
What little remains.
© Tanya T., Marblehead, MA
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