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The City Shadowed

by Chris Hubbard

This poem is about growing old.

 

The City Shadowed

 

I cannot remember my name. And

where I came from. Or when I came here.

I am not from this place, this city, and

its silent people, its pale-vaulted sky,

its black shadow silhouettes

flickering lightly across blank walls.

 

Here the bar staff talk in lilting Irish

cadences, and look straight through you

as ...

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Thursday 16th February 2017 5:39 am

rhythm   Ulysses   restlessness   knowledge   Dante   horizons

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