Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Chris Song - poem #6 - Midnight, Austin Road



Midnight, Austin Road


Midnight, few car lights. A late bus 
has jumped the curb. Deep into
the Kowloon Park, so dark

the flicker of someone lighting
his cigarette. Perhaps so deep into 
his thought, he’s not even conscious

that he’s smoking when he has
the last puff. Or so deep into
drugs, the night strikes sparks

from his fed-up day, so feeble
in the hollow park, like moonlight.
Midnight, a few strong lights

someone striking the iron
from the construction site
on the other side of the street.

The night has jumped the curb.

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