159: Metal Men

The metal man lies bruised and battered

between the cobbled stones. A common

office-sign, half his leg

is buried in the soil, and his head

is rusted red

after exposure to acidic rain.

There he lies, less

than a stone's throw away

from his metal palace

where the windows and doors hide

behind aluminium blinds,

where grey metal towers

twist towards the sky

with roofs cloaked in bird droppings.

He watches the patterns

of strangers' boots, the lines and the wears

and the heels left untended,

without thought, without judgement,

as they hurry to some appointed place and time

and he is left

to wait for them to join him.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: Please note that all poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been seen by our editors, and that the editors have suggested revisions where they see fit, but we believe that it is ultimately the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions and take no responsibility for which suggestions they accept or reject.