Light drunkenly reels into shadow; <br />Blurs, slurs uneasily; <br />Slides off the eyeballs: <br />The segments shatter. <br /> <br />Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged <br />Fluttering wet strips. <br />The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full; <br />It slushes wine over. <br /> <br />The street-lamps dance a tarentella <br />And zigzag down the street: <br />They lift and fly away <br />In a wind of lights. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Stephen Fryer<br /><br />Arthur Seymour John Tessimond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wet-city-night/
