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Jan 2017
VII**

The water starts easily, helplessly
licking my tires with passionate peace
As the current builds I can feel my hubcaps rusting
peeling away all those years of clacking British
pavement
and dogs taking a leak despite scolding
strangers
and children’s bouncy *****
gliding just short of an auto wreck

the icy ocean digs underneath my doors
it cuts my cushioned seats
like cobra teeth
Tearing away the midnight kisses
rides to dark places
and the beautiful dusk rainfalls
--If I think a while, in this bubbling
reverie
I can feel the sizzling raindrops
pattering

When the water reaches my wheel I
moan my engine
collapsing inside, wishing I could cry
but any oil would float away
and infest the souls I know will soon
surround me.
It isn’t long before I must hold my breath
and my wheels gently feel a folding of the floor
wood splitting shatters the still air that has
entranced me into my imminent
sleep

nothing, nothing
I all rust
looping bubbles and
twirling like a gumball down the
candy store machine
fallingfallingfallingapart
I explode on an ocean floor
with no hope of returning
even the memories they gave me won’t set me
free

so I only
watch the dust
settle


settle
From a series of poems told from the perspective of the victims and survivors of the Titanic tragedy. This is from the perspective of a car belowdecks.
Amanda Evett
Written by
Amanda Evett
425
   M L Evett
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