Archive for August 1st, 2017

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

Barbed Wire by Eithne Wilkins

The silence, with its ragged edge of lost communication,
silence at the latter end,
is now a spiked north wind.

Last words
toss about me in the streets, waste paper
or a cigarette butt in some gutter stream
that overflows
from crumpled darkness.
“Look, I am plunged in the midst of them, a dagger
in their midst.”

and over the edge
the nightmares peer, with their tall stories
and the day’s unheard-of cry.


Date: 1940

By: Eithne Wilkins (?-?)