The Beat

So rumble on. 
Dignified specks 
across the cuffs.
A stumbled run.
Lives closer, 
standing back, 
than coming from.  
A room of champagne glasses 
painted darkly - 
beating a rogue drum. 
A gallery free 
of ivory canvas.
Deaf fallen hum.

Leave a Comment

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