Portrait

His face,
once as full
and richly hued
as a ripe apple,
had withered
to a collection
of lines and angles,
like a hastily drawn sketch.

— Justin Cronin, "The Passage"

Birds

Young men floated
up and down the streets
like pigeons,
roosting on this corner
or that and then
moving on,
all of it benumbed
with idleness
and vaguely ominous.

— Justin Cronin, "The Passage"