the way of all flesh 12

     roy herndon smith

the jazz of shadows 
and occasional voices 
plays over silent

streets of taupe light with 
silver shining finely wrought
manhole covers that

clank and go still when
a swishing car or roaring 
truck runs over them

doors to underground 
tunnels and cables, unseen
and unheard until 

it all collapses 
back into the earth singing 
the blues in the sun