Attic

By alexwritings

Sat, 10 Feb 2018
  • 767 reads
2 comments
 
The
moonlight 
leaks through the bevelled glass;
 
a heap of khaki suitcases
glow drably 
under its silver touch
 
like props
on an Agatha Christie set. 
Under,
 
mice plumb the floorboards - 
their scuffle
is the soundless churning
 
of stricken minds.

 

 

 

Certificate U
Poem
With the odd rumble of thunder
Other Fiction

Comments

Submitted by Parson Thru on

I'm reading a lot of William Carlos Williams at the moment. Your poem reminds me very much of how he saw the world. In detail, with clarity, intuition, yet somehow detached. I like it. Executed well.

Parson Thru

Submitted by alexwritings on

Thanks Parson that’s quite the compliment! I’m going to go away and read some Carlos Williams now :)