The London Hours, 2012


The London Hours
No more us and I, and them
Night time nearing at 1pm
No wind chill, no chills,
Remote coldness.
This winter isn’t like
The one you handed me
In colored paper
And ribbons I was excited to untie,
It will be the usual
Gloom of day-spair,
Of no directions,
No sense.
Look right, look left,
Mind the gap, do not cross,
Where to, no more zebras,
Just hyenas and victims,
Many of us.
I know you not,
You took up a different passport,
Broke the legs of time and sunk
Somewhere where I do not find
Air to breath and there are
No kisses to revive me.
It’s the tallest solitude,
No eyes to lay on,
No tiptoeing naked,
No coughing the bodies against,
No nightlong reviving.
No snow, no strolls, no fog,
No sleepover nestling.
No, no, no, no, no.
Yes, that’s all.

2 responses »

  1. Beautiful poetry, Anna. From my perspective, this is the best you’ve written in English. You seem to have developed a greater grasp of the English language and are utilizing it very well in your poetry. I really, really like this, as you’ve used some wonderful imagery and expressed feelings very well. Thank you for sharing. Nice…very nice!


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