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after the hands crossed

after the hands crossed
by tanner brockwell

after the hands crossed
the winds were still
sandy gravel crushed
beneath hard heels
and the steel curve
of the open bonnet
awed with radiator hoses
a sick cough
the battery near empty
deionized or distilled
grabbed spring could be worse
glugging into full
turn it over
and over
toomucheffortigive
velocity of the cylinders
crunchy smoke filled air
throaty depth
woarrrrrrrrrrrrr
there were a hundred stories
each teller
eyes wide exclaimed
the dust moves the night
pushing on to dawn


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This was written by tanner. Posted on Tuesday, June 10, 2008, at 8:43 pm. Filed under poems. Tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow comments here with the RSS feed. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.