The opposite of thunder
Trees are struck dumb by the light;
houses shine out their equal astonishment.
Covering the east
like a black cloth backdrop,
the clouds make this light
impossible, transfixing,
transfixed.
Shadows line up along the fence awaiting strange commands.
Evenings like this, it is hard to remember anything voiced.
Our voices are not part of us, and if we tried to speak we would say everything at once.
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3 comments:
i tried to post this as a comment but it screwed up the line breaks. then, actually it still screwed it up a little. please read the final line with no break.
I like.
what if you broke the final line of the first stanza after "fence", the final line of the last stanza after "speak"?
I might like the last couplet of the first stanza to read:
transfixed: shadows line up along the fence
awaiting strange commands.
or even
transfixed: shadows line up
along the fence awaiting strange commands.
Sorry for the long and extended absence--it's been a little tough here in the monetary dept.
But I like this, I like it better this way, and I like Elsbeth's comment because part of me feels that for such a little poem, it needs to be evened out in it's form. A short first stanza and a more prosy final stanza?
I think the whole thing could work well as a little prose poem if you wanted to go that way. I would still keep the two stanzas separate if you did choose to do that.
I especially like the sounds of "black cloth backdrop". I don't fully understand this little poem, but am willing to let simply let it take me where it does. I feel transfixed by the light and forced silence.
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