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Plastic Seat






The sun rides high and rude,

July cuts into me

like a hangman's rope;

the goddamn plastic seat, stuck to me,

makes whispery sounds

just beneath the drone of talk radio,

as I shift uncomfortably

and sideways glance at Sophie.

Tomorrow I will take her

across the meadow

to a new place,

higher,

where the land drops away

and we will see New Mexico

in the very distant blue shadows,

wind drifting across our faces,

not another man nor woman

anywhere around.

I'll kiss her, then,

and she will ask me

why I am crying.

Because I love her more.

Because I cannot bear it,

nor think of having her/not having her forever -

 

then I will kill her.




In a list

A contest entry

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Comments


  • c e ll a r . d oo r
    April 9, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Definitely a stunning ending, but I can see where thoughts like this can come into play. I think it is possible to be driven mad by loving someone so much, I feel like this at times. I would never really follow through but the though of "if I can't have you, noone can." has rolled through my head.

  • ocerus
    March 29, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Uh, "kill her?!" Gads! Well, even though I don't like violence this is still another good one from you. Kudos!


  • SurelyWritten
    March 28, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Wow- So perfectly worded. I stuttered over the three lines before the last line, for some reason I kept seeing extra words there- My mind is playing tricks on me, which I suppose is one the effects intended from this write.

    One of the first things I did when I got back to the site from my down-time was look at your list about Emily.. I wanted to see what I'd missed, and what fantastic writes you'd turned out.

    I am so glad you entered, it kind of surprised me at first, but I am very excited that you did.

    The poem is well penned, not wordy, or overdone- simple and elegant. And the ending- Wow, unexpected, creative, and very thought provoking...

    Simply marvelous write,
    Shirley


  • Night Hope gold member
    March 27, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    "where the land drops away
    and we will see New Mexico
    in the very distant blue shadows,
    wind drifting across our faces"

    What a beautiful description, my Friend. I actually wanted to be there, right up until ya kilt her. Good luck in Shirley's contest, Scribe. Wanda