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Space-share v time-shift
by Laura DoomWhen the storm has blown me out
the calm of devastation
wraps me in its broken limbs
and dries me to sleep.
I dream cyclone and tsunami
earthquake and avalanche
eruption and extinction.
There is no light of day
to rouse me from the nightmare
of survival, no pretence of alarm
to trigger shots of eccentricity
down the circuitous route
from headline to obituary.
...
I meet myself in the elevator;
"Going down?" she smirks, lit up
and stinking of passion.
"This is a lift" I drawl, squeezing
the last vestige of irony
from my paper-thin personality.
...
When poetry slams the door in my face
I slump to my knees, crawl to the sink
hang my head and wait for blood to flow. 06/16/2013 Posted on 06/16/2013
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 06/16/13 at 04:45 PM *****STELLAR*****
[going in favs for sure] |
| Posted by Angela Stevens on 06/17/13 at 06:28 PM Vivid is one word for this. Loved it. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 06/21/13 at 05:14 PM me too... the slump to my knees, crawl to the sink hang my head and wait for blood to flow part |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/26/13 at 05:36 PM Grim with a mind's eye fully open to manipulating the pen. I like. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/27/13 at 03:07 PM Worthy capture of the storms inside and around us, how they orbit one another. Faced with a deluge (pardon the pun) of images from the media, not surprising, they work their way into our dreams...nightmares. Although the stanzas fit together, I can also see this piece as three separate poems. |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 07/02/13 at 04:12 AM It all is amazing, and I agree about three different poems, ideas, scenes, sketches, yet like it all as one. I especially liked the third stanza and the imagery by what it isn't (no clock, newspaper--love that idea). And the paradox of time-shifting shape-shifting, time-share supported by the final image of slamming a door on one's own face, so the slump crawl bleed thing can actually happen. I thought a lot about your piece. |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 07/11/13 at 07:02 PM When poetry slams a door, it opens a sinkhole. |
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