It’s day 2 and here’s your poem from the prompt, Dirt Under Your Fingers. It’s a cascade form, one of my favourites, so enjoy.

Dirt Under Your Fingers
Concrete cage framed in steel girders
gridlocked by sky-scraping shadows
can’t feel the dirt under your fingers
Patterned existence locked in rhythm
of a wounding heartbeat feeding that
concrete cage framed in steel girders
Incessantly serving an almighty voracity
that looms its corpulent presence,
gridlocked by sky-scraping shadows
Final warning past the sunset stress
and the thud of burial atop your coffin
Can’t feel the dirt under your fingers
Wonderful start to the month of poetry.
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This is an excellent poem. Modern cities are exciting and full of opportunity, but your poem captures what I don’t like about them plus the “all is vanity” refrain.
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