(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

' ' ' ' Around Midnight

The smoke curls
& coils

itself into

as the air is
stained with jazz

& other rethorical questionings
even now

taking the shape of a heart
that comes together only

to fall - apart

as if to illustrate
her loneliness

in some text book
of the heart & its hurts.

The cigarette now
a perfect replica

of itself
(only in ash)

balanced delicately
on the edge of stolen

hotel ash tray.

The green crystal numbers
stare back like the eyes of a cat

on the tiny digital clock

making up time
as it goes along

Now in the silence
that contains only her


the clock

of such human pain

flicks like an airport
destination board

00: 00

User Rating: 2,8 / 5 ( 82 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

AWESOME poem, the feeling of loneliness...being alone...is very powerful...and when that clock ticked over at 00: 00...the end? the beginning? Something...or nothing? One of your best!