French Quarter

A tiny golden baby.
A titless tassel,
and a string of amber beads
dropped under a pile of puke.

A cake of many colors.
A sweet loaf of shameful pride.
A sometimes homeless man,
a statue like a corpse.

 
Beyond the field behind him,
in her feverish dreams,
a black cat inspects his head.
and does.


idunno2-copy-21

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s