Poet fell down? Second poem from Patrick Woodock
I fell down in front of an Assyrian relief while climbing a mountain
by Patrick Woodcock
One shattered arm, enmossed and lean,
ends at the earth and bleeds on stones.
A darkened spider raised for shade,
Some drink below on crates and cars
and watch his chest expand, unfold.
As he coughs salt-shakered songs
his throat implodes.
He cannot turn and leave them now,
his audience of Kurds and Kings.
He falls in farce and cigarettes
to sit within the sunset’s gleam.
© Patrick Woodcock