Night Searching …don’t miss this metaphorical brilliance by tiredhamster.
Walking into the dimly-lit narrow
paved within, a cliched thing
bumbles from its crumbling
dark then sways on the broken
walk before me.
Metaphors grope for coherence
among themselves, and words
are guttered with green and brown.
Abandoned phrases smile
with shadows surrounding.
Windows eye each step,
my mind moves beneath
these yellowed mouths of street lamps.
I let the air’s stagnant pulse pull me
again to the alleyway, puddled
with the spittle of cheap rhetoric.
There used to be
uniformed men here, maintaining
their beat, shooting the unmetered
children back into their unsaid dens.
Now creatures teeth the air.
I search the dumpsters and the pockets of peddlers
presenting their tired word choices and bad
enjambments. Why do I let myself
return to the rhythms of this road?
I’m finished with this night. I claw
through the unfinished songs dripping
from balconies, pockets full
of begging, and brush beyond
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Reena Saxena 