Thursday, March 24, 2005

The Minotaur Feels Hungry

We had sipped our wine from common cups
And felt the grind of bow on strings
That bind, pull and strain, but never break
-- There is comfort in familiar things.
Comfort too, in the words and skin
Of strange men and women and one-night flings
In betrayals and the haste we make
In cracked mirrors to see our face,
Our fate in broken mirrorings.

Let us go then, you and I
When the evening has stretched out into a sigh
When dusk from death will bring release
-- Scavenging for life in rotting bins
To the mournful snap of violins.

4 comments:

Ink Spill said...

Phenomenal!

Praneeta Paradkar said...

a wonderful musical effect, this!

Dan Husain said...

Well! Then I wish the Minotaur to famish!!! :-)

SPECKLED_BAND said...

Spectacular! And the Prufrock twist is ingenious!