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a poem by Valentina Cano (1 of 2)
Cocktails
The lobby shone like a rat trap
all angles and metal corners,
waiting for a bit of weight,
a step in the wrong direction.
The lost, drooping flowers
spit their petal to the anemic floor
and dangled off pots swinging from the ceiling.
It all looked muscular and angry.
The air itself a tight fist
that refused to give.
The crowd trailed in
with grins clinging to their faces,
eyes reflecting the bars,
the metal, the snapping hinge.
all angles and metal corners,
waiting for a bit of weight,
a step in the wrong direction.
The lost, drooping flowers
spit their petal to the anemic floor
and dangled off pots swinging from the ceiling.
It all looked muscular and angry.
The air itself a tight fist
that refused to give.
The crowd trailed in
with grins clinging to their faces,
eyes reflecting the bars,
the metal, the snapping hinge.
© by Valentina Cano
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #18 ~ November 2011
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