By: Fredrik Zander

Estranged by adorers,
Scattered in the absent wind;
This vacuum is a bird of prey.
Too late for the news of the world;
Too soon for the fascination
Strangers bring to light.

“Could there be tomorrow”,
I asked a hollow mirror,
Begging the question
To respond;
Late night in Jericho Street,
We howl our goodbyes.