The Gray–A Poem By Mu Antoun

This picture is in color
Or so I have been told
Yet all I see are streaks of gray
Like stinking, putrid mold

Something isn't quite right
Something sacred isn't here
But as I count up all I have
There's the taste of rancid beer

It lingers when there's laughter
It whispers when there's warmth
And when I count my sins at bedtime
That haunting taste comes forth

Yet the world keeps on shifting
In its infinite monochrome haze
I stare in the mirror and smile
But the gray dwells in my gaze.

© Mu Antoun "The Feathered Pagan"

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s