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velvet folds

by robert-brunner

the turn of the rail round the land. the curve of the soundbox against the hand. the engine rumbles somewhere, undefined, as love disappears tonight. the wall lines the sea in holland. The velvet folds close the stage at the opera. Tile on the roof silently shedding the rain as love disappeared today. Relentlessly cold is the hearthstone. The march of the nightshift to the factory from home. Barge tied to barge sounding the horn, a freight of black coal, buries the heart as love disappears tonight. Dark are the waters plied by the fishing boats and trawlers. The paths are map-less ruthlessly speaking a language that's foreign. At the edge of the canyon without finality, love disappears, over and over again.
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Written by
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Published
Dec 18, 2019
Time
2m
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