by

poetry: town

nobody cried when sweet smoke
arrived. we soot danced, our eyes
half-open, bodies ash-drunk
on sugar promises plucked
endlessly on old guitar

strings. winding streets slowly filled
with smoke, siren calling hearts
to believe not our choking
breath, but it. singing praises
like honey symphonies, words

of control. hushing words. lies
laying beneath. it quick burns
papery thin childlike-hope 
into dying embers. we 
believe it all until you 

speak. standing atop stacked rocks
bright hair blowing, tender eyes
locked on us, you say “listen
to the wind.” we do. it bends
flowers, stops dragonflies, sings

towns alive. go—sweep floors, hug 
trees, wipe ash from foreheads,
clean water, move air. listen
to stone, earth, plant. grab my hand
tight. don’t ever let me go.

Note: Is this poem inspired by Barbenheimer? Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

39 thoughts on “poetry: town”

  4. Well I’ve seen neither movie, so something lost along the way perhaps.

    But I found something anyway. Nicely done, afore I forget to say. Things invoked that want to talk. And you poem in whole, I want to dance with it, and so I did. Fair enough?

    @

    There is some wildness here. Clearly so.
    Rocks. Big rocks, no need to talk. They just fall.
    Everything around, beside, above, below, behind
    the trees, it’s just like this. Less inclined to speak.
    So who’s telling tales? The wind. The wind, it
    whispers to everyone, no favorite kin.

    After a calm or after a storm, wind says
    it knows your name. But don’t take literal
    everything wind leaves in its wake.

    Wind is just passing through.

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    • You didn’t miss anything by not seeing the films as it was more inspired by the feelings I felt rather than any specific imagery.

      Your poem is a wonderful response. Wind is just passing through but perhaps it’s our teacher. Does it not show us how to bend? Or maybe I’ve got that wrong. Wind causes the wind, but the bending…that’s our reaction. Maybe it only serves to clear the way to see what was there all along.

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  10. Neat poem! I like the use of the enjambed lines forcing us onwards like we’re on a moving train that isn’t listening to our wishes. Then the final verse is full of punctuation, finally allowing us time to breathe as we slow down to notice life.

    Beautifully written 😄

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