Saturday, February 18, 2017

landmines in a living room

the ashtrays make their presence known

a hand clutches the neck of a wine bottle

a man screams as he makes love to a broken-string guitar

balance is lost after one glass too many

bones settle into their place, complete

with their aches and pains

and rain slams into glass with

the guilt of a hurricane

that has torn apart towns

we remember the drought

we remember when the roots

of the grapevine broke free

they were so strangled by the soil

that they forgot how to breathe

old ground was broken here

in the way that relics are unearthed

where least expected

but always, there are holes

1 comment:

  1. For me, the poem seems to find itself with "rain slams into glass" -- although there's something to be said about the contrast of the first six lines vs. the rest of the poem.

    The line: "a man screams as he makes love to a six stringed guitar" seems a bit cliche (and maybe a bit too country?).