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Still Air Sticks (Free verse) by Sunny
The rubber bands, the burnished coins
collected conservatively, a refrigerator
with nothing: the night falls on this.
To say her pules carried from the back porch
is unjust. She wailed.
She bellowed deep from her morrows.
We all made a pack and howled because
of what remained in that truck:
the splattered ruby that left me real
and raw, as raw as the demise of his face
complimenting stagnant air with flies.
We killed all other details
with pitchforks and foraged for what
was left in aftermath's footprints: burnished coins
in the bedroom, some rubberbands limp on the floor
and his white refrigerator, always hungry.
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Arithmetic Mean: 5.0
Weighted score: 5.0
Overall Rank: 7703
Posted: May 20, 2006 2:07 PM PDT; Last modified: May 20, 2006 2:07 PM PDT
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Comments:
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Dearest 'Sweetlove',
Enlighten elsewhere with your brilliance, not here.
~Sunny