Collars

Pieces of me are escaping

through the pores

in the skin

of this room

I follow them

 

outside

I see no people

only wily black dogs

on street corners

under the embankment

skulking in broken glass alleyways

 

I walk on

putting my own collar up

though the day is still

and blue

and yellow

as yellow

as I am

 

I look at my wrist

forgetting that I haven't worn a watch in years

technology, the thief of time

 

progress

I walk on

looking down at my feet

those marvellous things

carrying me

away

 

©2018 BY STEVE DENEHAN. PROUDLY CREATED WITH WIX.COM

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