a boned claw

Crawling against the crowd

you frighten, how close you tease the edge

the water, leaping over itself, nipping at its own heels.

Tonight what you've been searching for ceases to call,

the wilted violets flutter, ridiculous

amongst the fumes, these lights, this concrete.

You exchange courtesies with  the trees

they are loyal, wise

reaching their fingers skywards

with the grace of a ballerinas' hand.

The pookah grins

with the flare of a roman candle,

perched in his basket of branches

the tree, a boned claw

rooted in the underworld. 

The End

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