That spring the sky stayed gray,
a grandfather dozing in a worn chair.
Our tongues turned to cotton,
our hearts ran out like tea from an upset cup.
It was the season of the broken brick,
the crushed bloom,
and the stunned child, gaping.
______
for Dverse quadrille: "season"
Shay this does feel like that very spring!
ReplyDelete"Our hearts ran out like tea from an upset cup." This is how you leave me speechless. Every time.
ReplyDeleteIntense!
ReplyDeleteOh no, must be the season of the witch. I liked this Shay.
ReplyDeleteYou had me at "it was the season of the broken brick" Lots of things getting stirred up and fecund. You seemed to have fun with it.
ReplyDeleteThat spring the sky stayed gray .. sigh. wondering when it will turn blue again.
ReplyDeleteAs always your work with simile and metaphor amazes me--making the structure that underpins your soar. That second line! Not to mention all the other ones, in fact the entirety of the poem. You've taken 44 words and turned them into a lost world of memory.
ReplyDeleteYour words are stunning Shay.
ReplyDeleteThis perfectly describes the worst of springs... April is the cruelest month
ReplyDeleteAll the imagery in this is so good. I love:
ReplyDelete"our hearts ran out like tea from an upset cup."
If these were banal lines, there was nothing banal about their combined effect!
ReplyDelete