Butterfly Stich

               Blood-red metal swing seat
                Tender tiny shoeless feet
                Rusty saw blade, burnt umber teeth
                
                Muddy river rolling, rumbling
                Brick wall tilts, tipping, crumbling
                Clouds roll by the darkening sky.
                
                Empty child-swing swinging
                Cherry sucker stuck and singing
                Sticky sugar stop sliding by.
                
                Ripley heat rises meeting
                Vapor streams that seem steaming
                The window frames sounds going by.

Reviews

[Boris47K]

This poem doesn't seem to have any life in it. It sounds like the writer is trying way too hard. Don't lose your skeet all at once.