Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #407
The Empty Jeep
by Belinda Roddie
The empty jeep had eyes and ears and lips
so it could see me, hear me, and kiss me
without consent, as I let worry slip
across my shoulders as I braved debris
and speed bumps to park at my dreary home.
It seemed so weary, that automobile,
and while I could rest my exhausted bones,
that carcass of fiberglass and worn steel
could never sleep, or dream, or wake refreshed,
stretching its limbs to meet the light of day
like warm fingers across its puckered flesh.
No, vehicles must run until they're gray,
until they cannot move another mile.
How can I sympathize with jeeps, meanwhile?
by Belinda Roddie
The empty jeep had eyes and ears and lips
so it could see me, hear me, and kiss me
without consent, as I let worry slip
across my shoulders as I braved debris
and speed bumps to park at my dreary home.
It seemed so weary, that automobile,
and while I could rest my exhausted bones,
that carcass of fiberglass and worn steel
could never sleep, or dream, or wake refreshed,
stretching its limbs to meet the light of day
like warm fingers across its puckered flesh.
No, vehicles must run until they're gray,
until they cannot move another mile.
How can I sympathize with jeeps, meanwhile?
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