evenings don’t expire in July
the long, branching arm of heat
stretches the sky
like a poem read by strings of stars
before sadness departs
and Elkhorn’s an absence of air
I hear porch lights talk among themselves
about the Lutheran Church up by West Dodge
the natural consequence of lodging
in silence so poisonous
it can’t expire
the raccoons didn’t even like the quiet heat
they were suicidal, splattered off I-80
a long, branching sun
a long, branching poem unread by still paws
I’m only met by sizzling quietude
a poem too crude
to operate its own vehicle
when stars are strings in paper skies
and earth hides from me
I don’t know why earth hides from me
where did I go? why am I gone to earth?
did I not go to church enough?
was the heat too lonely to love me?
I’m far, God- I’m a distant speck
on your right eye’s radar
don’t leave me with the raccoons
don’t leave while I have so much
to give up on
-
Author:
Jack Otterberg (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 21st, 2022 20:45
- Comment from author about the poem: Idk
- Category: Sad
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments1
wow!
how about i offer you, this
pitiful promise
while you willingly, choose to share
your poetic genius, with the world
and
I still have control over my breath
I'll read
every work of yours, I come across
like
it's the very first;
hoping
that with each poem, your passionate
ink, births into reality
those raccoon's, distracting
your monkey-mind's, bleak
musings
will, be tempered and contented
to wait
by the side of the road
till the right, ride
comes along!
(feeble, it may be
but its all i have to offer
forgive me)
thanks for sharing, dear Poet
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