Ghosts linger in plates
brought curbside, trimline phone,
faint blue dot just above the knee,
Memory gnaws like a hungry
belly, ache of phantom wisdom teeth,
lyctinae eggs in open pores,
Here and gone again,
from forest to pencil to powder--
For Rommy’s Tuesday Platform: GOING BUGGY
I like how you have it trail off at the end. It adds to the feeling of disintegration, where not even words exist to describe that which is irretrievably gone.
ReplyDeleteThe last line is killer! the way it trails off as if all breath or hope has ended.
ReplyDeleteWant to pull up to the A & W Root Beer drive in and see a girl who looks like you come up and take my order on roller skates.
ReplyDeleteI feel the loss in that powder... in the end even the memory fades.
ReplyDeletememory gnawing like a hungry belly...it dies do that...bkm
ReplyDeleteOh Gee, Marian, I just a few minutes ago had one slip to dust. Back when I was aggressively blogging, 2006 to mid teens, I would carry a little notebook to jot things down. WE best be doing that again. Loved reading this, I had to look up only one word, "lyctinae". Do they attack orange trees? I picked up 17 small fallen oranges this morning.
ReplyDelete..
The first line made me think of the Day of the Dead rituals we practice—leaving food for the departed. But the thought really hurts, when one considers the title...
ReplyDeleteThat last line trailed off to almost anywhere.
ReplyDeleteforest to pencil to powder...that line creates a vacuum even the Electrolux man could sell. Call me on the trimline phone when you get a chance, we'll talk about missing pieces and ponder the edge of the known world.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Corey: the fade away at the end is most telling of all.
ReplyDelete