Heads of statues displayed on pillars
He climbs in his truck and pulls the engine
New mother walks the gravel
Young woman descends the steps
The day only just begins
No-one left to thank
A man and woman argue through years of misunderstanding
White dog like snow wounded on his paws
Push me through acorns and bark
'Til I am the same as the wood
And just stand to watch all the things fall apart
The days stack up to balance the compass
It’s either even or further to fall
Tufts of hair sprout from the ground
As the pain you made me feel cyclones around the bastille town
It comes out in transformation
A small joke with a local woman in the market -
a punch you won't ever feel.
I buy from her a gold watch
It slows down each hour
The heads of the pillars watch me walk back in
To our tilting world and the gravel slips
It will storm tonight and the branches will scrape the slate of the barn
Tomorrow we will clean up the mess
Shouting at the dogs
That’s where it all ends up
God bless the animals
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Will White and writers in Poets and other communities.
181 Keeping Watch
Each day she watched through her window. Watched? Perhaps an exaggeration: a monochromatic nuclear aftermath remaining of the world, blurring into a blindness--loss of contrast and depth of field. Achromatic aberrations displayed a waste-scape stratified in grays.
By Gerard DiLeoa day ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.