Quiet huddled shivers
flesh behind steel beneath rock;
oxygen depletion, narcotic quivers
shrieking confusion, horrible shock!
Thoughts of the stoop, the heroin fog
the twenty-third street, forty-first row;
the interesting man in the interesting mode
with baggage in hand, disciples in tow,
speaking, soothing, converting with a touch;
leading the lamb to the charnel house
the slow bricking, the stifling death!
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: July 2nd, 2025 09:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments1
On first reading I though of the city but then came to mind the holocaust and shivers did raise. A cold and stark write of darkness
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