Wider World

The cloistered blade of the gypsy
short and cold and unadorned.
Fall of the cards too rapid to follow.


Mingled shouts build, higher;
lashed to the rocking table
forbidding reason and retreat.


This small lullaby, my doves-
who sparkle over rubies in rings-
pay no heed; it's a corner grub.


Until point blank
Sun grows too white. And bound, stung night
cries in disbelief.

 

◄ Dreamer To Dreamer Speaks

Spanish Guitar ►

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