observe Algiers with Eva Von Pelt
My throat, full
of shadows and
the memory of time (time’s memory)
wrapped in stained glass;
a window that tells the story
Red is the blood,
blue is the sky of dusk, and
violet is the snow
of a bloody night in Algiers.
I take a hit of pop rocks as a train cracks by; my eyes bleed grey.
Remembering those nights; how
we kept the moon’s silver secret;
drinking in amber, and smoke, and rose
the odour of sanctity
blossoms from the bodies
of saints strewn between
the white buildings
I blink through violet snow and the platform becomes Casbah’s labyrinth.
Posted for dVerse Open Link Night no. 46 at www.dversepoets.com