Where else to begin
but from a repetitive scene where
light smothering the fractured windshield
is the face of a mother
and the brute agony
of a totalled vehicle, the countenance
of a father?
But which ruin takes its station
amongst all moveless damages?
What narrative to assuage than appall
which has not been drawn before,
say a line to daze the day into genre?
In transit we have no words for it,
nearly giving meaning to a god and
fray itself drunk with a lesson.
What space here remains vacant and is
an invitation to a marred face,
pressing against the upholstery but makes
final its formlessness?
What space is here that sits
with in an acoustic? This silence again and again,
a sign of a spectral dawn again and
again released from what they spit at me
those who are but vigils in pried open yesterdays
decomposing from where I lay with them.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
Where else to begin
but from a repetitive scene where
light smothering the fractured windshield
is the face of a mother
and the brute agony
of a totalled vehicle, the countenance
of a father?
But which ruin takes its station
amongst all moveless damages?
What narrative to assuage than appall
which has not been drawn before,
say a line to daze the day into genre?
In transit we have no words for it,
nearly giving meaning to a god and
fray itself drunk with a lesson.
What space here remains vacant and is
an invitation to a marred face,
pressing against the upholstery but makes
final its formlessness?
What space is here that sits
with in an acoustic? This silence again and again,
a sign of a spectral dawn again and
again released from what they spit at me
those who are but vigils in pried open yesterdays
decomposing from where I lay with them.
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