like a sailor on leave.
I wake to a sound like flocks of birds
salsa-dancing on the roof.
The rain comes to a boil in the street
while gutters vomit stone gray soup.
Crumpled leaves of last year's blackberries
hide sodden and ashamed behind the wood pile.
I pull out a yellow legal pad, bright as headlights,
uncap a pen with a pop like a tiny champagne bottle.
Nightcrawlers slink across the pavement
like pink and gray bird intestines.
In the sky, clouds like moldy cauliflower
are stitched with gold threads.
I stare at my reflection in the TV screen,
kitchen lights behind me, writing the bright world.
Note: Today's prompt was to write about an element, i.e., fire, earth, etc. This poem seemed elemental to me--we have earth, we have air, we have fire, we have water. I'm not sure this poem is finished yet-what do you think?
1 comment:
Last I heard, earth, air, fire, etc., were not elements. Nevertheless, this was not my favorite of your work to date. I did like it, but so many of your words whisper profoundly in my ear. These just sorta got on a soapbox and exhorted.
Maybe it's just too elementary
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