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Friday, July 20, 2012

To the Airport

The truck on the bridge clatters overhead,
like I do on the inside,
bleating tarmac fields,
the cacophony of rush hour
echoing the dissonant fugue
playing inside my core.

I lean into the wheel
pushing toward the calm of night
a black-inked road,
mounding and falling,
florescent eyes
boring holes through 
a woolen curtain—

Ahead, distant taillights
slice the darkness,
precise incisions scoring the night,
etching a forward trail—
but leaving it 
bleeding thick and crimson.

Liza Carens Salerno


Carol Kilgore said...

I like this :)
Happy Weekend!

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

Sounds like a helluva drive! ;)
As always, great imagery in your writing, Liza.

~Sia McKye~ said...

Pushing to get through rush hours insanity and home to calm and peace and I understand that. That feeling of a happy sigh as the traffic thins out to the occasional steak of red tailights.


Old Kitty said...

Love the raw image of "bleeding thick and crimson"!!

Take care

Johanna Garth said...

Me too, love that image of tail lights bleeding thick and crimson. So perfect.

glnroz said...

you a poet(ess),,rekcon? I liked this...:)

Lydia Kang said...

Wonderful poem. I love that last line--it really stays with you.

Robin said...

I love how colorful your words are.

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

From start to finish, you painted wonderful images in your poem. Great job!

'Yellow Rose' Jasmine said...

Such inspired writing for such a common experience. Wonderful!

mshatch said...

ditto what yellow rose said. Reminds me that I haven't written any poetry in a while now.