Look to the hole
in the wall
from which
a white rubber gloved hand
cleanly pulls
stubbed
and still fresh
yesterday’s lies.
by matt at shadow of iris
femme fatale ii
femme fatale ii
femme fatale, a poem
Contours
brushed long and thick;
shimmering
that falls
over curved
black patent leather.
A gun pointed
at you
and thick rouge lips
that say,
I lied.
– matt at shadow of iris
femme fatale
clink, a poem
Ragged clothing
walks
along the boulevard
with an oversized music box
that hums
odd tunes
when you crank it;
and on request
there’ll be a little dance
for quarters
and for dimes,
but watch out
and take care
for the fleas
are old
and grow restless.
by matt at shadow of iris
clink
the guardian, a poem
the guardian
No one knew what he did for money;
he just sat there day in and day out
in his lawn chair
smiling at the neighbors
as they passed him by.
[Read more...]
premonition, a poem
Footsteps
echo
in the darkness
behind me;
whispering winds
chatter
and then shout
run.
by matt at shadow of iris
premonition
