Still

Strange how this place

Has gone suddenly still,

From commotion to

No motion in seeming

Seconds, like a sheet

Pulled over a corpse

In those minutes that

Leave everyone numb

And staring and thinking

Who knows what,

Even the gothic group

With chalk white faces

And tattoo traces of scary

Scenes on pale arms

Dangling from black

Hoods, have drifted away

Like late night fog

Unwrapping street lights.

Stephen Nesbitt ©