Three things

feet, bricks and rain

that's all this April Tuesday is:
my paper-smooth feet against sanctified,
red bricks as the sky wipes
away my tears with its own.

An old woman with a broken
face asked if I'd like to buy
seawater, 100% natural
and great for healing scars.
My skin tingled but I said no
and then went back to watching
my feet bathe, like fictional birds,
in a puddle the bricks had collected
just for me.

She shrugged and continued
walking down the street,
muttering about worms
living in the brains of the youth.

I hugged my scars close
like attic-light holds dust
and heard Lake Michigan
call out my secret name,
the one only my heart's tongue
speaks, over and over
with each wave-crash,
echoed through the rain.

Reviews

[Jack...]

This poem was thouroughly satisfying and beautifully penned. I love the creativity and the direction this piece took. You gathered a collection of seeming unrealted thought and formed them into a magically touching poetic work. I find your imagination sees with a different light than most. I loved this poem.

[eglantine]

always wonderful to read your reviews Jack. Thanks for stopping by!

[carol burgess romance]

I hugged my scars close
like attic-light holds dust...I love this imagery...such a delicate way of weaving thoughs and images together to tell a story...beautiful write

[Richard]

My goodness ... not only is a masterwork of art and poem ...it tells a lovely story I very much adored this :)

[bob, small b. aka invs]

lovely atmospheric writing. the rain provokes so many thoughts and poems.

[MOON]

Such a beautiful write full of mystery yet somehow speaks .. I hugged my scars close .. Poignant write!

[eglantine]

thank you!

[Melobldnfr]

Gave me chills. Absolutely love it. Like an atonement. Thanks.

[eglantine]

merci

[Country Girl]

This is very good.

[Verser]

If there were ever a poem that creates a mood and an image in time equal to this, I would have to work hard to find it. The poems thrives on mystery, with a water echo throughout. And we are given no answers--and we don't need them. The phrase, "like fictional birds," just blew me away. Even now, I see those feet as clearly as anything that might have taken a paragraph to capture--and not as well. Finally, we don't get to know the secret name. A last mystery that leaves us yearning, much like the narrator. May I?

[eglantine]

Thank you, and yes, of course :)

[Verser]

Thank you!

[Nick.B]

This poem shows the problems of everyday people who tries to live day by day, great write

[eglantine]

Thanks Nick!

[Steven]

Sounds like a decent afternoon.

[eglantine]

woah, nice to hear from ya Steven!

[Mark]

Rain can be comfort and curse. Secret names and scars held. I feel the pain underneath the images and smile at the mastery of this write.

[eglantine]

thanks Mark