by David Mullen

Created on: May 28, 2008

Day

The Day came
Falling in as dribbled sun
Spilling lightless on blank walls
Announced by the metallic scream of a clock.

I dressed in gray clothes
(worn with forgetting the color of a rose)
To speak measured words
In the houses of Stygian dreams
And the silent screams
Of lost children.

The Day moves on heavy heels
Down machine halls
To blue lit rooms
Where empty eyed words

Fall stillborn
From kiss-less lips and gray tongues
That suckle a steel breast.

The Day sits crouched before haunted screens
Gazing at the bodiless purposes
Of cold speech with corpse eyes

While I pray in secret
For a touch
For a voice
For a heart beating real
In this Shadow place.

And sometimes I find
In the child's eye
In the young heart
And in you
That which can be
And is
True.

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