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World War Three
by Stephanie Lane SuttonIt’s man versus the brush fire.
They’re up on the rooftops, they’re firing downward,
it rains upon the glimmering heads extending from the flames
on melting legs of flesh.
I never saw it stop
once I looked into their faces
and memorized the carvings from ear to ear.
A voice called out across the expanse
like we were in the dissonant microphone.
It pedaled against my ears
telling me to
go back
to the greener grass.
But I stayed and spoke back
told it to
burst open this machinery with all its thundering decibels. 01/15/2010 Posted on 01/17/2010
Copyright © 2010 Stephanie Lane Sutton
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 01/17/10 at 12:03 PM ... exceptional use of the language..... |
| Posted by Michael Smith on 01/18/10 at 04:13 PM To say this is vivid isn't enough. This is really powerful masterful writing. Every aspect of it. I can also imagine a series of such poems... would make a hell of a book. Very excellent job, Stephanie.
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