brick house sunrise


open the curtains

in the brick house

let the light spill in

peeling back the dark

illuminating broken things

scattered like litter on the side of

life the broken dolls

games that glitch

the only for this side of town

bag of mismatched chances a

keyboard with  missing keys

a greasy box of half

sentences missing verbs

near a pile of half-lives

lived in shadows waiting for something

that may never come straining to hear

music that may never be played

knowing things are missing

but not able to name them

empty hands reaching

restless after stagnation

pressed down and unstable

dawn breaks

sun rises

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
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