Two Poems

By Sue Matin

The City

The 09.37 rattles in
to a cathedral of echoes
an arc of pigeons swoop
through the inside outside

Beyond the concourse
the grey corpse lies
its frost edged bare bones
stone cold still

Blank eyes stare
into silent squares
empty buses, empty buildings
the streets washed clean

The litter of life is swept
the last breath taken
The blood of the city is it’s people
It’s people are gone

The things I didn’t do

I didn’t write a book
I didn’t learn spanish
I didn’t clean my windows
I didn’t clear out my wardrobe
I didn’t give up alcohol
I didn’t drink as much coffee
or eat as much cake
I didn’t miss crowds, traffic or Christmas
I didn’t have a birthday
I didn’t die
I didn’t always meditate
I didn’t always hope

I did
learn how to use liquid eyeliner
hold a crow pose in yoga
for 8 seconds
without falling over.

I write to stay sane in the midst of madness, and hope that one day I will feel like myself again.

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