In the darkness of the city a weapon clatters to the pavement.
The traffic clamours.
She was once moon-eyed and young, trying
Now, in a dark alley, a middle-aged woman lifts up her tear-stained
Face and is dragged behind the rubbish bins,
Into the shadows.
She lies amongst the rotting rubbish, she does not dare to breathe
The whole world leans back toward its own darkness,
And she leans into hers.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
Image found on Pinterest
My response to imaginary garden with real toads Play It Again, Toads
For Play it Again, Toads, where archived challenges of the Imaginary Garden come to life again, I have chosen Grace’s James Wright challenge from December 2014, which is to write a new poem or prose poem in response to James Wright’s words, for example, affirming what the speaker said or using his title or line of verse as a jumping board for our own writing.
By James Wright
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
There they are, the moon’s young, trying
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.