herald

Monday 11 December 2017

When night slinks, like a puma, down the sky,

Street Lamps

When night slinks, like a puma, down the sky,

And the bare, windy streets echo with silence,

Street lamps come out, and lean at corners, awry,

Casting black shadows, oblique and intense;

So they burn on, impersonal, through the night,

Hearing the hours slowly topple past

Like cold drops from a glistening stalactite,

Until grey planes splinter the gloom at last;

Then they go out.

I think I noticed once

- T'was morning - one sole street lamp still bright-lit,

Which, with a senile grin, like an old dunce,

Vied the blue sky, and tried to rival it;

And, leering pallid though its use was done,

Tried to cast shadows contrary to the sun.

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