Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The cranes cling along the sea cliff yellow spiders perhaps made skittish by the rolling morning mist. they swing and strain with (do I detect?) a nervous urgency until noon when the sun half shines through to draw the fog and warm fragile yellow exoskeletons. There are plastic bags now in the dog parks, cameras grow on top of poles. Exercise equipment planted in the gardens, at the edge of the sea (certain I would have noticed them before). These towers must be taller, then. I've seen them at work for a year and a half, they must be– with all that nervous energy. Tire tracks from heavy trucks. A bent rail, discarded candy bar. Morning sand on the sidewalk where secret midnight bricks were laid. And here, maybe, a new banner flies: "Se vende." To sell oneself. To give oneself away.
0
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Fertile crescent
The cranes cling along the sea cliff yellow spiders perhaps made skittish by the rolling morning mist. they swing and strain with (do I detect?) a nervous urgency until noon when the sun half shines through to draw the fog and warm fragile yellow exoskeletons. There are plastic bags now in the dog parks, cameras grow on top of poles. Exercise equipment planted in the gardens, at the edge of the sea (certain I would have noticed them before). These towers must be taller, then. I've seen them at work for a year and a half, they must be– with all that nervous energy. Tire tracks from heavy trucks. A bent rail, discarded candy bar. Morning sand on the sidewalk where secret midnight bricks were laid. And here, maybe, a new banner flies: "Se vende." To sell oneself. To give oneself away.
j-Arturo
Written by
American
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem