Drunk, in the Eyes of God

walking with Rilke
down these varicose streets,
hands trembling, and bruised.

amid the sirens of war
and the stupor of greed;
fish come to the surface

gasping for air...
vacant buildings breathe,
exhaling smoke, and

something else more sinister...
faceless strangers hurry by,
bundled up in their fears.

stone deaf, or just stone!
the door padlocked, and guarded...
flesh becomes shadow...

and stinks... a flock of birds
headed south... blood red
rain beginning to fall...

the call of living
like a faraway train...
that no one dares answer...

drunk, in the eyes of God!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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