Memory Torques - Opening City

memory

torques

into soft

teas

June

steeps

turns

steaming

said window

(and torsos)

said prints

views obscured

of nothing

in particular

or special,

but

troubles,

troubles only

of passing birds

enamored-of

(their lighter
bones)

or

are they

cloud and shadow,

merely the steep

sun declining ashen

into the Jersey side?

poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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