Stray dogs fly between the buildings like ghosts - invisible
they are meek
unseen
or otherwise disposed
they pick at the falling from the bone
decomposing corpse of socialism
In the same space are the hip-hopping
body-rocking
gucci wearing
disco dancing
money passioned young Sofiantsi
hungry for the smell, feel and taste of the falling sun
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beautiful, amazing poems! I didn't know you were a poet!
ReplyDeleteLoni