A Cancer

An exercise in atmosphere.

Father Death and Mother Torment

awaken to a parcel-gray city street.

An old man, skin barely clinging to powdered bones;

A disillusioned boy captures the shadow behind a cement wall,

a brown leather belt (most likely, Texan in origin) creates a crease

in his right arm. sanded needles. Whatever makes him happy.

Emily (dead in her rite, alive in her subjugation)

wears a miniskirt (pink, black, red, colors run together)

in order to attract a nine-fingered surveyor. The customer is always right.

In a loft above the corner apartment, a man (lost job, wife's a drug addict,

kid's lazy, no direction, senseless, dog's missing) checks all rooms, the house is empty.

He sits on his bed (cheap mattress with a single spring poking out of the cushion).

The gun oil has an unpleasant taste, bitter inside the mouth. His finger is on the trigger.

A dead dog lies in the gutter while the maggots enjoy their serendipitous moment.

A little girl sees this from her window. She cries (tears, bottled up and dipped in methane)

and pictures a big yellow dog, the one that she saw on TV, a late night special with bad infomercials.

She jumps, a loud gunshot startles her and exacerbates the weeping.

 

Reviews

[Greg Skura]

Great Imagery! Tragic ending. Thank you for sharing!

[Yosef]

(an exercise in review)
how is this a poem?
-fin
haha. just kidding. I like the cause & effect of the lines reacting to one another. felt organic.

[Song of Mercy]

All I can intelligently say is that I knew someone would die and probably at the end. If poems can suffer melodrama this one definately did not. I took it slow, line by line and let the imagery create a picture that I could evaluate with my feelings. I am the opposite of the first reviewer. I like the subtitle because it gives me extra insight into what I am reading. If you were writing for highly educated scholars it would be insulting. There are many average to good writers on this site that benefit from a clue.

thanks for the write. Barb

[Penelope Allen]

hmmm - hello comrade - what disturbed me about this poem is your introduction. Hoping to be tactful - I, as a reader, do not need to be advised as to what the intent of your writing is. I'm sure that you were not mindful that a visitor might feel - guided - as to how to absorb and appreciate this poem. Perhaps it's simply me being overly 'sensitive'?
As to the contents - dripping in the dreadful ambiances of the tragically empowered. I would have preferred a tad more suspense and a bit less drudgery ... but that's just me.