A little note before you read: I usually like to let poems speak for themselves, but as this one is a little cryptic, I thought I might mention where the inspiration came from. My family and I just got back from visiting my grandmother in Wyoming, and if you've ever driven through that state (especially this time of year), you know exactly how exciting the landscape is. It's a trip we make often, and I'm always struck by the flat, windswept vastness of the countryside we travel through in order to stay inside her little mobile home. This poem is about that feeling. I hope you enjoy (comments appreciated!).
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Tin Can Galaxy
Curled up inside
A tin can, like
Six little pebbles
We rattle, brittle
In the cold, impossibly
Alive, impossibly small.
Our trek across
That living void outside, that
Gleaming, frozen emptiness
Should have stolen life
Like color from our
Flushing faces, this
Glorious nothing
Our forgotten eternity--
But we live on,
Six glowing planets
Defying infinity with
Our significance,
This hollow, fragile,
Ugly little box,
Monstrously minuscule,
Our galaxy.
That. is. really. good.
ReplyDeleteWow. You have a way with words :)
I appreciate a little aspect to your poetry that has become my pet peve (I didn't spell that right)- They don't have to rhyme and they still work! I don't know how you do it, but I'd sure like to figure out how:)
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