Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2015
There were
old wrecks of machines,
tumble-down buildings leaning together.
Not an ounce of energy nor a minute of time left over from the
awful,
hopeless
struggle.
Sun in the wrong place where it scorches and burns and exhausts you.
Black shade where you want sun and warmth.
No comfort.
The buildings lie inΒ aΒ heap, as if they'd been thrown there -- and there they stay.

It was over long ago, not with a bang,
with a sigh.
Jenna Gibson
Written by
Jenna Gibson  Here, There, Everywhere
(Here, There, Everywhere)   
514
   ---, Dawn King, Juneau and AFJ
Please log in to view and add comments on poems