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Book bugs


There it is, sweet night
One long, shocking ring
The signal to clean desks
Of every living thing

From every nook and niche
Come mute rheumatics
Hugging their thoughts
Like leaf-cutter ants

Each bug snoutly sniffs
The question mark of air
They stand for a moment
Transfixed, but where?

Quivering, shivering soft
Nothings to nobodies where
The ashes of the daytime
Sweep reality to the west

Somewhere in the city I was
I saw you wandering off
Eating into the darkness
With blindness inside


© David Incoll 2001


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Copyright by David Incoll 2001