Derailed by Stars: Prose Poem
Saturday Poetry Prompt: stellar steering
I started the evening still looking right at Orion’s belly — 3 hours further north than usual — projecting through the madness that is the ground forcing its way up through the feet, a pushing pulse with its erratic gaps — synapse out of control —
I tried to map a course back to you — before I slid into four feet of snow — a ditch perfectly level with the road, probably too tired to be driving — that’s the spot where the ditch decides to eat part of my car, my time — swirling scenes outside —
those little eyes on cloth that isn’t all black — there’s shades up there, no uniformity — cue the derailment of senses and time — gravel eyes me from eyebrow level, wonders about my driving skills, has the sense not to fucking mention that it’s been like 30 years since I first got behind the wheel of a car —
that was grandpa’s fault — I just complied, while not learning about what the brakes actually do — how to slow velocity of a thought that reaches through the gross whiteness that stays white somehow when there isn’t a lot of light to reflect — how to stop the excess of pain and memory…
looking up, and up and again — this time I saw the snowy owl, wings spread over my windshield — couldn’t see it when it was over the field but with…
