It’s dark for the second time today,
though I never quite managed to see the sun.
Phosphorescent road lines measure off
the seconds and miles of my life spent traveling
(though I seem to have forgotten the destination,
lost somewhere between desire and complacency.)
The butchered sky crumbles apart and slumps,
held up only by the thin fingering wires
that shudder and stretch under the weight,
but I’ve outgrown my Chicken-Little days.
I pull to the curb beyond the last lamplight,
parking where the world dissolves away,
to wait for an epiphany to strike
and fill me with something—sadness,
or joy, or anything but this endless apathy
that fills my monotonous, repetitive hours.
Minutes drop away like wood shavings,
time better spent sleeping squandered
as the night air distends and bloats.
As I ease the gears into position,
the wind whispers with a hint of fear,
“The sky is falling.”
“Yes,”
I tell it dully,
and cross into that gray world
between life and death.
“It always is.”
Author notes
Option 3, I hope.
A contest entry
- Options!!! by A Poet Named Kyoto.
1050 points, ended August 4, 2007, 37 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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“Yes,”
I tell it dully,
and cross into that gray world
between life and death.
“It always is.”
that really caught my eye, you have this subtle way of keeping someones attention, without using flashy, or outrageous remarks, you just keep us engrossed with clever images, and memorable words, all with an intelligence that soars pretty damn high
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Well, thanks =) This poem was inspired by driving at night (duh). My headlights illuminated a few telephone wires and I said, "Huh. With the clouds so low tonight, it looks like the wires are pressing at the sky." And then it went from there.
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WOW! This poem is so powerful, I love the end, especially with the chicken little reference! This is great!
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Thank you very much.
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