The Air is Blind with Cities
The air is blind with cities.
I see sparks of meat, scattered
like body’s of rain, with tiny voices.
I see starving faces, bluer than hills
of sand, of perfectly formed deserts.
The hunger is calm, like pictures of
water, of kissing wells,
but what of the sea
rising and the fire seeing and seeing?
There is the God of kitchens, the seer
of poverty, the prophet of night,
rushing through the streets in clouds of music
like a broken spring, tenderly restored.
Austin McCarron‘s poems have appeared in numerous magazines such as Snakeskin, Van Gogh’s Ear, Camel Saloon and others. He lives in London.