Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Poetry Cavalcade 2009: Poem 11
While Driving
I stopped when I saw it
Down by the curb
Half-buried in leaves
And mud and thick trash.
A delicate body
Torn and wet and
Matted with grime
I can't walk by.
So, I pick it up
Pull it out of the muck
With a wet sucking sound
(the muck, it fights back).
Turn it round in my hands
To a page at the end
In a high schooler's hand:
"Nov. 19- I know it must end
Now are you happy,
Sean?"
The day after that
I read news and obits
And then see her name
She, she was the driver,
Nov. 19.
I stopped when I saw it
Down by the curb
Half-buried in leaves
And mud and thick trash.
A delicate body
Torn and wet and
Matted with grime
I can't walk by.
So, I pick it up
Pull it out of the muck
With a wet sucking sound
(the muck, it fights back).
Turn it round in my hands
To a page at the end
In a high schooler's hand:
"Nov. 19- I know it must end
Now are you happy,
Sean?"
The day after that
I read news and obits
And then see her name
She, she was the driver,
Nov. 19.
