Harrowed by the
Voices in my head
The cantata of street lights and sirens
Feet tapping crescendo on pavement
And the tribal rhythm of the suburbs
Driving all things underground
How I strain to tear away the veils
to slip through a window
And perch barefoot onto
A clay roof of a brownstone flat
Where I once leaned into
Solitude and indigo ceilings
To watch luna rise and darkness fall
To hum my own hymn

words © malai carrara 2011
photo by rosa negra