deepundergroundpoetry.com
Day by Day
Day by day
there’s less and less of me.
A token body, I.
Dissolved.
Flute boned.
The dull solidity I see
reflected in the looking glass
is all a lie.
And what was Eliot’s surmise?
That we are Hollow men?
More like
grey ghosts too tired to wail,
straw things,
no more than shufflings
in a dry cellar.
At night
and in the morning light
I walk with them.
there’s less and less of me.
A token body, I.
Dissolved.
Flute boned.
The dull solidity I see
reflected in the looking glass
is all a lie.
And what was Eliot’s surmise?
That we are Hollow men?
More like
grey ghosts too tired to wail,
straw things,
no more than shufflings
in a dry cellar.
At night
and in the morning light
I walk with them.
Published 5th Dec 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 123
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
