Tire tread
gravels
the sand tissue
as asphalt
lipsticks
flesh warm ground.
Hills callous
on rusting skin,
like knuckles from
potter's hand,
while iron pressed
sun
creases your eyes.
Turquoise glass
fires
in eyebrow clouds
while the candle held
of you
melts the facial
in a rearview mirror.
-
Author:
Chris H (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2023 14:35
- Comment from author about the poem: As I drive down Interstate 15 to begin my first job after college in Barstow, a popular stop in California’s Mojave Desert en route to Las Vegas, my thoughts turn to the abandoned feeling that, well....this hopefully dislocated image of endlesss tumbleweeds can bring. The joy of a dog escaping from the backyard for the first time mixes with the knowledge that the mirage is really a mirror that reflects the dry reality of my choices.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
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