Weekly Poem #8

This poem was written following a stay in central Frankfurt near the railway station

the angle of fear

the angle of fear is sharp
cuts into my softness
its point is jagged
tears at my placidity
unsettles a casual stroll
along a street in a city
i do not know

three men sit
on a curb watching
i cross over unsure
the straight line of my course
severed i walk around
where i now feel danger

in the morning, in the light
the same spot, three men
stand idle, immigrants
maybe refugees, outside
a hostel with rooms
too small for casual chat
i pass, nod a small greeting
swallow my shame
and its grim tinge of fear




All poems copyright of the author Daniel G. Scott