Jan 5 small stone

I cannot write.
My senses have been torn away,
given to a smorgasboard of undelight,
lost to the whooshing of buses that pass
within an inch of the pavement,
to the pigeons who behave as if
I am in their seat,
to the rainbow of smells that erupt
from the kitchens of the world.
Has it been so long since this was home?

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2 responses to “Jan 5 small stone

  1. “I cannot write” you said – and yet you did, powerfully! Wonderful!

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