Dust-people by Vikki OwensIf there are no names here,
the dust-people
are forming,
thier gritty brown
dirt
their ugly powder smiles
and pulverized teeth...
they are the lottery
black dot on
white paper
and they eat
lemon slices
dipped in suger
the sound of their feeding
like
harpiscord
plunking
and stringing and looting
they hold
up their sand,
castles cascading
into the
ashes and seasons of
summer
I'm fading
in this twilight
in this darkness
in this melodic
mantra of feirce mandolins
the alitteration
unfortunate
cosmic
you are supernova
in a brown
paper
bag. 09/26/2001 Posted on 09/26/2001 Copyright © 2024 Vikki Owens
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 08/24/03 at 09:17 AM excellent imagery... dust people... very clever... my friend and i called them neon people... but same principle... blessings... |
Posted by Max Bouillet on 10/03/03 at 04:07 AM Vikki this imagery is striking... you achieve great characterization without using dialog. Masterful word choice. Thanks for posting. |
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