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Small Fists
by Linda FullerRain punches the ground with small fists.
Three days now, and slender green shoots
stretch and bend against the onslaught.
Water pooled in a flowerbed glows
gray and silver. With each jab of rain
ripples conjugate, ribbons of mercury
sidewinding through gunmetal gray.
A pale coiled frond rises like a beacon.
A man pumps out his flooded basement.
He sees his child’s face beneath
the oily sheen of the water. He sees
her small hands clenched at her sides.
His wife comes home. Water pools
in her dark eyes. The man lifts his hand
and lets it fall without touching her face.
In the flooded bed, water touches water,
ripples merge their separate identities
in constant flux. Downspouts gurgle and rale
while gutters cradle decaying leaves.
03/23/2014 Posted on 03/23/2014
Copyright © 2024 Linda Fuller
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 03/23/14 at 09:02 PM Very nice write Linda. A little dark but certainly nicely done! |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/23/14 at 09:42 PM Powerfully descriptive poem, Linda. Excellent capture of tragedy, if I understand it correctly. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 03/24/14 at 05:56 PM Your journal entry becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy? Good structure, effective metaphoric action, classic 'show, don't tell' quality; way to end a drought... |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/24/14 at 10:30 PM Such an effective first line - the word "punches" sets the tone well - loved the frond beacon, the glimpse of human disaster - "water pools in her dark eyes". There is something extra in the phrase - "water touches water". A pleasure to read and re-read. |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 03/26/14 at 01:07 AM Devastating. And beautifully written. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 03/26/14 at 02:35 PM I see you live in California where a severe drought is now being assaulted by biblical rain...dark, yes, but so expressive and profound. Consider this reader "punched" in the gut with awe. |
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