Metre Monday – “The Mall”

4 Jun

I went to search amongst the milling mass

Midst marble scuff on shiny floor and wall,

The sounds of people talking as they pass

Bereft of sense and wisdom one and all.

The vast and snaking stripe of stair and glass

They mount, and find it moving on its own;

Transfixed in silent terror then they stand

And find two levels upward they have flown.

The vaulted ceiling sheds no light below

And music, wilted, meets the ear in grief.

I stopped outside an entrance, cold and bare,

And entered, spiteful of my many hurts

Then found, twixt shuff’ling sloth-like people there

My quarry: Old Navy bargain t-shirts.


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