Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 91.0: May 13th, 2011
Impromptu E-mail Poem #1
by Belinda Roddie
As she stood,
the watery aneurysm erupted from the yellow cornea
spreading molten gold up and down her face
as he turned off the car radio.
Piano jazz, Erroll Garner –
“For once in my life,
I’m got someone…”
She wasn’t someone who
cried very often, especially not enough
to fill the cracks in the sidewalk and
stain her collarbone with
salt-blackened circles, salty
words
filling her mouth with excess.
She asked,
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
and he pushed his skull deep into
his fist, bone against bone,
knuckle to knuckle, buried in leather cushioning that
would always grow
sticky in the summer.
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Sour repetition.
He wasn’t impressed.
by Belinda Roddie
As she stood,
the watery aneurysm erupted from the yellow cornea
spreading molten gold up and down her face
as he turned off the car radio.
Piano jazz, Erroll Garner –
“For once in my life,
I’m got someone…”
She wasn’t someone who
cried very often, especially not enough
to fill the cracks in the sidewalk and
stain her collarbone with
salt-blackened circles, salty
words
filling her mouth with excess.
She asked,
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
and he pushed his skull deep into
his fist, bone against bone,
knuckle to knuckle, buried in leather cushioning that
would always grow
sticky in the summer.
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Sour repetition.
He wasn’t impressed.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since May 13th, 2011.
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