|
black blanket
by Kristina Woodhillit coulda been the Big One
it coulda been the Blast
to drive that close to jellystone
it coulda been my last
breath,
IN now out now IN now out
you didn't see me skimming low
along I-84, some dragon puffing
twenty packs, smoked sage brush
at my door's
death,
black blanket covering, muf-fl-ing my shouts
it coulda been the neighbor kid
tryin' her first toke
it coulda been a meth lab rookie
goin' up in smoke
signals,
red is hot and blue is cold, and pink's a pretty pout
this here's the lost horizon
i read in some thick book
this here's a low-fly bombardier
his lightning fingers gone berserk
(tingles),
black blanket covering, i'll never make it out
08/25/2010 Posted on 08/25/2010
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 08/25/10 at 09:40 PM I love the rollicking rhythm of this and the enjambment (I think that's the correct term). |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 08/25/10 at 09:59 PM ...gimme air, gimme air, k-gal i went up, i went down and that black blanket covered me...wheeeesh gimme air. a staggering write, good to the nth degree. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/25/10 at 11:39 PM I love it Kristina. Very nicely done! |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 08/26/10 at 01:52 AM "rollicking" is a great descriptor for this. Certainly took me for a ride! |
| Posted by June Labyzon on 09/19/10 at 04:24 PM I love the rollercoaster this takes me on...my breath ceased waiting for the dip which takes me to the next stanza and word...what a fun read this was! |
|
