Cassette tape
Lying by the curb
Clear shell
Splintered
Black entrails
Curling in piles
Two wide eyes
Staring at the sky
Speechless,
Incredulous,
That such
Loving melodies
Could come
To this.
Author notes
As someone who was very fond of making mix tapes (and having received a few from 'lovers,') I have been wondering what happens to them all. After seeing a mutilated cassette tape lying in the street a few weeks ago, the image conjured up this improptu poem. More "object" poems to come! (Thanks to Valerie Worth's "Small Poems" for constant inspiration.)
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