Driveway, for Open Link Night

Driveway

I don’t think the whole class needed to know about
wet celery in the drain. If you never eat a plum,
how will you know what it tastes like? Sometimes
there is a buzz in my brain like a, like a what do
you call the thing that lashes out and cuts down
weeds with its vicious-fast snake of a tongue?
It’s like that, only nothing stays down for
long; the driveway of my mind won’t stay
edged, devolves into broken pavement and
ant-blasted dirty sand, all the scrubby stems,
meaningless leaves. Nobody sees them.
Everybody sees them. If you forget I was
talking about celery, don’t forget I was
talking about celery. And what
should we do with
the plum?

For Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.

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9 thoughts on “Driveway, for Open Link Night

  1. This poem felt like a moment in a workshop or writing class, like the speaker is critiquing the imagery in someone else’s poem, then gets off track, then gets caught up in that imagery as if it were from their own life.

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