Echoes and Chaos
26 May 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: capitulation
I remembered killing love — even if I didn’t try to do that — staking out nice tall boundaries, looking out from a thing I was sure was a tower but was really a potato cellar — like the one grandpa had in his garden shed — sneak like under a large dirty circle rug…
Briefly filtered former living — all stuck inside, echoing the cleaner sounds, the expletive-free version, some ditty about the robins going full bore on the next five million nests around my house — straining to hear something, the coffee has started dripping, stopped, and now I’m sure I’m alone
Can’t believe in all this chaos — what, because it’s not right in front of your fucking nose — and the grip still slips, is lying down, is by the creek without the footwear needed for them slippery rocks —
Well, doubt whips frailer passages into shape — gets the costumes washed and flung about over the fence — dog sniffs by the property line, bleach to sand the shame out, sense of disarray resumes, fills your face like dandelions erupting in the wind — and you wonder, what will grow next?
J.D. Harms 2021
Prompt:
My child absolutely adores Corey Hart’s, “Sunglasses at Night”…which might seem like a total non sequitir until I remind…
