by Daniel Peterson

Concrete spider legs that spread
their knobby knees out over time
through the crumbled layers of lime
on a street that thinks them dead
Wrinkled lines that slowly make
their craggy valleys over skin
tell tall tales of what'’s within
until the point they finally break
Fine forests of blonde tree stock
there waving in the wind and rain
unaware the numbing pain
of their quickly thinning flock
Calendar pages that surely turn
a little worse with every moon
that rose too high, then sunk too soon
before we had the time to learn
The very certain, precious parts
that don'’t decay with damning age,
that don'’t fade out on yellowed page
that hurry themselves from head to heart.


Posted on 08/11/2008
Copyright © 2023 Daniel Peterson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 08/12/08 at 12:01 AM

...daniel, this is a keeper...i love the transitions[and never once does your hand leave your arm!]from the very first, then it starts undulating in a rhytmic cadence[no pun intended], a heavy piece o' work...

Return to the Previous Page

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2023 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)