Author Information
Sentry
The station was more quite
than a dog on a dead leash
the kind of silence you can't buy
and most certainly can't teach,
As beings pass to and from exits, first then last,
my entry is stalled abruptly
by a glass pain sentry,
A raspy cotton voice dipped in honey
slides from his tounge to young ears
and the syllables swish the gum lines
in a fine example of eloquence,
He asks for more and more
than what I usually have on hand
but the pockets are floor bare
with a face to which I'm looking without answer,
A busted stance
with rack iron rod
a long list of names
rolls out from the sharded fingernails
the shards are casting my reflection
so this seems like the perfect chance
to calmly
and without haste or hesitation
fix the part in my hair
A Fine Write This
The spaces are so tight nothing gets in but emotions, the choice of setting, the last act as motion and thought and answer is inside exquisite and pure poetry. Not one extra word anywhere - the request, the empty pockets, the reply a simple act, shards, racking fingernail through hair - ahhhh, a sign of the times well described - sentry is a plus plus title - Lady A (I kinda liked this one C)
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