Mayor of the marble town

Slick with late autumn
rain; alabaster-hued stone
in grim solitude stands.

Silent towers
bear their own burden;
from the few visitors
come only whispers

All epochs
that can be remembered
however faintly
have their own boulevard
of gravel, grey and tan

The marble town
knows not the crime
only where their story
ends.

This field
once held wizened oaks
squinting
at their sprouting
grandchildren

I am
the mayor
of the marble town

and my sole duty
is to wait.

Author: AJM

Writer, sociologist, Unitarian Universalist. View all posts by AJM