Rain fills every colour, the pavements are lit –
a confusion of odd liquors: blues; mottled
greys; orange sugaring black;
red angered to stain.
Through the dull scope of air,
bloodless shapes are framed in high windows,
titled "Impressions on a Scene of Excursion
and Flesh" (april above collapsing).
I hang my head with the purple-pink flowers
who parade in summer's cruelty
and shake myself. We all shake.
Some absence in me sighs:
a woman folds days and closes cupboards
dripped in moonlight's multiplicity;
shadow beyond wrecks the alleyways,
pursued by wind and lights and…
— honest as a dart, on the edge of vision,
a house-cat stalks with diamond intent.
Not one of your better ones.
The usual rich, arresting word-crafting shifts into the inconsequential and self-regarding.
You have a vivid and successful first stanza.
The second stanza is too clever for its own good ("april above collapsing"? Give over).
"Honest as a dart" suggests speed, which is at odds with the picture of a cat "stalking", an action which is slower.
Needs work!
your outside.. there are flowers.. and a women is folding cloths while a cat is roaming around? Interesting.. not really..
nice