Monday, August 11, 2008

Albany Bulb



Standing under brilliant cloudless skies,
from sand-etched marbles blue with murk, I stare
through salt-flat stink and hot exhausted air
stirred only by the fecund swarms of flies,
as green as broken glass. My glassy eyes
can neither close nor move, a frozen pair
of orbs oracular but voiceless, bare
of language's protecting shroud of lies.

Motorists drive by in sullen haste,
in radio roar and sun-on-windshield flash
concealing restless eyes that swerve away
from fleshless avatars of mud and waste,
corroded skins on skeletons of trash.
I'm garbage. I am rust. I am decay.

Original photo by nine volt heart.
--for Poefusion and Albany Bulb

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

5 comments:

Michelle Johnson said...

Such strong, vivid language you've written across this page. Its beautiful even when you're talking about art made from trash. Nice job. Have a nice day.

Pam said...

I liked that you chose to write from the statue's point-of-view. The last line mirrors where humanity is headed if it doesn't turn things around.

Jane Doe said...

This is a superlative poem, vivid and beautiful. A truly lovely piece!

Sara said...

This poem will be linked to tommorow at Poets Who Blog. Thanks for being a member.

Wordcrafter said...

Powerful imagery and beautiful poem.