Disturbing Signs
There are the other warnings,
I should have already seen
in the morning 3am,
on the brink of a drunken amen
dashed against the pavement
in a feathered decompose
an angel and the rusty splatter
of its bare, red halo
a city-garden gated
with chains of dark-red iron
under ‘no Trespassing or we shoot’.
the silhouetted ‘Cain and Abel’
and growing roots so soundlessly,
over the rot of yesterday,
the infamously Poisonous Pong-pong tree
masquerading the Tree of Life
‘Come in, come in’ the voices say
‘Step through our opened gates
In the netherworld of 3am
Cover charge? There ain’t any.
‘Come rest your tired face
against our soothing grass
while the cobra sips soundlessly
— from your thirsty eager ear’
So should I go or should I not
My feet unsteady and wavering
For all the warning signs
that glare at me
on the drunken brink
— I luxuriate
//
