The River! The River!
Young woman in old clothes,
looking far past her age,
sits nervously prattling to herself -
at a square presed-wood table,
imbrued by dark ink,
engraved in chicken scratch
obscene, tho', barely legible,
within the wood-grooved
whose splinters obscure -
a clean, clear view.
Then, of course there were,
the hand-happy wood slammers
purging their confetti
of manic emotions
within the un-holy confinds
of a stenched, human bandbox,
quite mundungus and fullsome, in kind.
She has witnessed insideous horror,
tho' she's guilty of no crime.
Yet, her congenital mental state
offers skinny, skewed specifics...,
for deposition, or to strengthen her claim.
Then, suddenly her green eye's
open large and expressive
as though she'd been deep in dream
of a surreal, queerly nature.....,
and then frightened into wakeness.
The River! The River! ....she begins to shout;
her pupils dancing with frightening verve.
Then there was silence...for a very long time.....,
for a very, very long time....................................
A nd tho' it seemed these vibrant eyes
had so much more to say,
everything else was..............yes,
was quite abnormal, as she stared
into a blue sea of shirts
with numbered sheilds in shiny silver,
who then defered to those standing
with darker, plain clothes,
with their hideous K-Mart ties
well hung over their flies...,
and who strategically made blood attempts
to crack the imbrued and skewed stem
of the womans anemic brain...
[...] Read more
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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