Because we all want to write more poems.
no words
waiting in line at the grocery store
I glance up to see my son run to the front
(impulsive, past the people in line in front of us)
to look at the DVD selling machine
then he wanders down the way
my eyes on him the whole time
and comes, at last, to the newsstand
where the image on the front page
is of a charred blank
where a house used to be
where a man used to live
where his wife disappeared
where his life overturned
where he used fire
to clear it all away
including
his two small sons
the headline yells death
my boy stares and stares
at the image, at the paper
I pay for the food and walk to him,
hand him the cart to put away
(his special job, my responsible boy)
and we walk out the door
to the car, my arm
around his small shoulders
holding my breath
waiting for him to ask
but he never does
- Jennifer Dixey's Shared Poems
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Comments
Benjamin Gorman
February 8, 2012
Permalink
chilling
I love the tension built up by the repetition in the middle.
At the ending, I rather hoped it would remain unresolved, perhaps by excluding the last line.
Jennifer Dixey
February 8, 2012
Permalink
Good thought
I like your idea ... I think I'd have to modify the second to the last line to make that work. Thanks.