we are gathering
garden stones
for the nest
the July heat
siphons the water
from us
you are bent
tugging a red
sandstone
from the ditch
vaporizing rivlets
of your sweat
cascade down
the valley of
your bossom
you're smudged
scuffed
imperfect perfect
our baby sleeps
in the anemic
red Ford pickup
that pants
at the side of the road
you strain
heave
and smile up at me
heaven is here
me with you
in this dusty
humid
Oklahoma moment
which I will
carry eternal
A contest entry
- enter poetry here. by amid unnaked things.
300 points, ended July 31, 32 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I am unsure what an "Oklahoma moment" means to a sleeping baby in a "pick up that pants." I remember another poem about killing cats. I am sure that you do not, intentionally, mean to convey these images in the way that I receive them; but they contrast with the romance and interest of your writes. I do understand 'Oklahoma moments:" I went to school there.
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Yes, I think you got it. There is nothing romantic about picking up rocks for your garden along a dusty, Oklahoma road in 100 F weather. The poet generates his own feelings. It's a "beauty in the ugliness" thing, which runs rampant through much of my writes. Thanks for the interest.
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