the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

These god-like stones

These god-like stones will end with time,
ruined and lost among progress’ monoliths.
My hair tunnels into my ear as I
light matches in the frozen wind.
Ground is hard to till with rocks
animals and specters now call home.
I search for morsels on withered plants
sprouting from concrete catacombs:
the midnight hunger of the prosperous,
waking from pillows of down to go downstairs
searching for more than food.


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© 1993-2024 by Stephen M. James.