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


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.