This is a short poem by another one of my all-time favorite poets, Charles Simic. I admire him for his concise, yet rich imagery.
Head of a Doll
Whose demon are you,
Whose god? I asked
Of the painted mouth
Half buried in the sand.
A brooding gull
Made a brief assessment,
And tiptoed away
Nodding to himself.
At dusk a firefly or two
Dowsed its eye pits.
And later, toward midnight,
I even heard mice.
by Charles Simic
The Voice at 3:00 A.M.: Selected & New Poems, Copyright 2003 Charles Simic, Harcourt, Inc.
In an effort to share more modern poetry with the world, I am attempting to share one poem every Sunday (usually with a strange/dark/offbeat spin, in honor of the journals I edit), to my blog here. If you are interested in being featured, message me via my Twitter @LeNoirBleu. The poem should already be published, with the copyright reverted back to you, and should be at least one year since the original publication date.
M Lenoir Bond 