Gush
Getting Burgers in South Philly is Hard to do When a Woman in a Sudan Fires
(Part One)
9:43 P.M Cross Street
i brake at the stop-sign
for an orange and white cat
crossing the street.
i assume it's a ‘he’
by the way it meandered
past my car.
my headlights told me
that he was thin,
and had patches of hair
missing from his back.
before he stepped onto the sidewalk,
his eyes glared at me
with solar flares.
“Take me home with you, I won’t make the night.” - Cat
9:45 P.M The Cross Street Stop-Sign
i click my left blinker
into place and wait
for the cars to pass by.
the burger joint is on 10th.
i day-dream
of grease
dripping down my wrist
from a congealed patty,
accompanied by salty fries
and a dry cider.
one more car to pass.
tinted windows,
blacked out rims,
woman driver.
she slows down,
probably lost,
to ask for some directions?
maybe she is fantasizing
about beef and beer too.
her window is down,
something is in her hand,
black and familiar.
The sun was beating down on my legs, frying any whiteness I had left into crispy layers of bronze and peach fuzz. Mom said, “do you want to finish your macaroni salad?” and i said, “you mean sand-crusted noodles. Just give it to the seagulls.” She said, “But aren't onions bad for birds?” as she threw them the last of the cold salad garnished with billion year old emulsified rock and glass. I get up, smear sun-tan lotion on my shoulders, and run into the water.
9:47 P.M Cross Street - Inside of My Car
i open my car door
and step out
onto the cold ground.
my brain is oozing
onto the satin
yellow lines
of the charcoal colored tar.
red sticky plasma,
spray painted on my windshield,
my life's blood
inside of one automatic,
metal box.
my eyes blur
and spiral
into a kaleidoscoped nightmare
of confusion and terror.
robotic sounds of metal scratching
on broken records,
faint radio music,
Elongated and slow-
the dance of sacrifice
around my ears.
i fall back onto the curb,
pupils dilated,
stomach resting on my kneecaps.
my toes are numb.
9:49 P.M I’m Not Sure Where
people are starting
to gather round,
covering the eyes
of their little clones
who will grow up
and cover the eyes
of their little clone.
i scream go away,
but no one listens.
red and blue
technicolored lights flash
onto my unrecognizable body.
i am no longer human,
just a science project
waiting to sit on ice.
the cat came back, and we walked down cross street,
heading home.
Kourtney,
ReplyDeleteYou immediately bring your audience into the word of your poem with the use of narrative intwined with images! I enjoyed the style of this piece and what you are trying to do. However I would consider playing around with the piece and cutting somethings in order to see what a more condensed poem could produce. Great Job!
I think all you poems, and especially this one, are just scratching the surface of a much more densely packed emotional experience. I had a lot of fun with this piece, but kept asking myself—how many more perspectives, and how many raw sentiments can she add? I wouldn’t shorten this poem, but I’d like to see you try to keep it the same length while packing more into it.
ReplyDeleteThis is a really interesting concept for a poem with a lot of moving parts. I liked the cat and the timestamps especially but was unsure about the italicized parts. Are they meant to be prose paragraphs? I had to do a fair amount of side-scrolling for the one in the second part, which took me a bit out of the poem but might not be an issue on paper or in a word document. Regardless, nice use of vivid languages and images.
ReplyDeleteReally like the form here, but as Cory said, I think more can be achieved within this form.
ReplyDeleteAlso, ditto to Sarah's comment on italics. I think that information could probably be worked in some other way.
"i brake at the stop-sign
ReplyDeletefor an orange and white cat
crossing the street"...great intro..the pace is fast, just like a car crash..good work with form..I do want a more powerful ending..I agree, you could experiment with expanding it.
A very unique and interesting approach here. I love how you manage to squeeze so much into moments, illustrating the sensory overload of a night time city drive. The italics threw me a bit, though. I think they would be better served integrated within the lines of the stanzas, especially given how smooth their progression is. I think the italics disrupt the forward movement here
ReplyDelete