Thread: curiosity

the only way back to the old diamond
is between the rows of mulch piles.
a heaving, sweating smell
that moves you like ocean currents.

the paint has come off the bench
except at the knotted swirls,
and the bonemeal of weathered grain
is a comfortable joke you’ve told
too many times.

the lights are on and the moon’s out,
but the sun isn’t gone yet.
the highway runs behind the homerun fence
and the transformers powering the filaments
blend into a humming absence.

as if you could die through an action of omission,
he just didn’t stop. careening up the offramp,
but he wasn’t going fast enough.

now i wasn’t there, i’m only here now.
but i’m having these thoughts,

did the airbags deploy?
when he came out the door,
did he brush away
the stalactites of blood
like cobwebs?

these things are muted noise to you.

how long from the overpass to the highway?

I can find nothing wrong with this. Maybe take the 'is' out of the fourth line in the second stanza. I'm bookmarking this. You are awesome. stalactites of blood like cobwebs. jesus.

"the bonemeal of weathered grain,
a comfortable joke"

---like that?

i think the second two lines of the third stanza need work. and i think i like your recommendation, without the is.

and thanks for the compliments. much appreciated. really.

bump. where's the love?

Yeah, like that. The is in the second line of the first stanza bugs me a little bit, too. I promise I don't hate the word is, it's a great word, we're tight and all, but I just think it gives the poem a passive voice that it would do better without. But I'm not sure what to do about that is, because it would sound weird if you just took it out. Maybe you can think of something.

*loves*