The City of Both Directions By Jonathan Butcher

Another corner turned, decorated 

with delicate carvings, which cast shadows

that put our weakened forms to shame,

they gloat how we'll never match their longevity, 

never catch even a sliver of it.

We restrain from our usual impervious

actions, the shots and half filled glasses

slowing our pace, a steady stagger at dawn, 

my lungs sweetened by the pollen strewn

from this tree entangled pipe.

The vastness of these buildings that have

no fear of turning to ruins, their innards

a tapestry of stained gold and candle light.

The various leaders were unable to scar

this grandeur, whatever side of the fence 

they perched on.

These gargoyles bathed in gothic, 

cling to each corner, and almost smirk,

as we gasp at mosaic pathways, 

and scrape up our hangovers with what's

left of our breath, and file each photo neatly

away, to give time for each one to slowly fade.

Jonathan Butcher has had poems appear in various print and online publications including, The Morning Star, Mad Swirl, Drunk Monkeys, The Abyss, Cajun Mutt Press and others. His fourth chapbook, 'Turpentine' was published by Alien Buddha Press. 

He is also the editor of online poetry journal Fixator Press.