g.s. murrant - poetry

unbroken these dark days are lead
they're heavey   they're gray
they're dull   they're poison
but today was a good day
      not even cold enough
      to snap me in half
the wind didn't hurt my face
my lungs didn't freeze

i gave up my last dime to a
sharp man   bright man
quiet man   beggarman
it was easy though to see
      as the winter sun shone
      to betray his empty eyes
he had been broken
by some unimaginable fall

every sharp bright broken piece
sorted and   matched and
catalogued and   documented and
quite impossible to mend
      not with all the times
      in the angry angry world
never again could make
an unbroken man

copyright 2001, g.s.murrant - all rights reserved