- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Exhaust Fumes
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Click hereShe saw her life ebbing away—
with what? A sigh, a shrug, a
'well that didn't work did it?"–when
after the hard flush of change
she found there was still
gas in the tank, oil oozing,
hot stares in shop and street like
jump-leads firing her battery, the
engine idling, waiting for her
foot on the pedal to roar away from
husband, children, problems,
seeing them in her rear-view mirror as
shadows on the living room curtains
hazed with her exhaust fumes.
- COMMENTS
greenmountaineerover 10 years agoDitto what Tess wrote. "...like/jump-leads firing her battery" was great. "oil oozing" felt a bit forced for the sake of sonics. Perhaps "oil pumping" in the context of Tess's comment? Just a thought. Great poem, friday, very imaginative.
Angelineover 10 years agoas it moves back and forth between tragedy and triumph--it seems to me a fine balancing act between the two and you've managed it neatly. And it's filled with sound and scent and movement. Really well writ, Mr. Friday. :-)
GuiltyPleasureover 10 years ago.....and sad. I like the metaphor you've used. It gives a masculine edge to a very feminine-centric poem. Loved it f-yam.
Oldbear63over 10 years agoShadows on the living room curtains
Felt that way before, both the shadow and the person looking back
Nice writing, Fridayam
