The Storm Moves Out

The Storm Moves Out

pale violet
the storm moves out to sea

I look for signs
in the arranged debris

montage of a divine hand

the swamped streets
bring the latest obsession
my way

string-of-beads prophecies
in the 
forest of home

glass wreckage
embryo shards

a priest blesses specimen jars
sending kisses into sleep



©AndrewJamesMurray
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Mytholmroyd 

Mytholmroyd

The tin voice announced the place
as we pulled into the station.
I, soon to have my ears syringed,
thought it said "Ladies and gentlemen:
Marilyn Monroe."
I half expected to see her
sashaying down the aisle 
of the train,
all shimmering platinum
between plush, navy blue seats.
Wouldn't that have been a sight 
for a Thursday morning?
Not only a Hollywood star,
but fifty-five years dead to boot.


©AndrewJamesMurray

 

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