Agra: Scene One
(Yowl and creak of steel on rail)
Yellow grain of dawn filters
Dream dissolve slow-mo pan.
Glass fitted for others frames
Scenes that aren't our own;
No marble covenant to a love
Shimmered in weightless air,
No symmetry of tended heart
Or lily flutter of stolen sighs
Across ornamental ponds.
A ragged cast of extras
Milling through sleep haze;
Dust of rail yard edgeland scrub
Scuffed into the wiry dance
Of a morning prayer; sun as
Angular as the banshee rails
That skirt a scene of daily rhyme -
The squat and dump of body dredge
And shit, mustard-yellow like dhal.
© Les Roberts 2016. All Rights Reserved.