Poem Fragment

Very much in draft form, and posted without further comment:


It has a taste, warm, bitter, like copper:
Pounding, shaking, burns a hole in a soul.
Like fast moving eddys of frothing brown
water escapes culverts, leaving an oily
wake. Crack'd asphalt, dead ends, boarded buildings
that shroud the light from all except the weeds.

Fight or flight over hardened veiny paths,
Cool vents from the fiery blast furnace,
Smoldering spout at momentary rest.
Seething, reeling, saber-toothed inside
eating, spoiling flesh and decaying bones,
hidden and remote, under the surface.

No joy, no pain, no love, no hate. Just the
coppery jealous overlord: anger.