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The hose is loose
and water makes a river in the gutter.
It roars quite quietly. I pass by.
Running down the street,
it glistens like cellophane,
clinging, moist, to the concrete.

It takes a turn, makes a bend
down the hill,
where it runs out of sight
past the lonely man in his garden
past the children in the driveway
the dog’s eyes slitted narrow like bleeding wounds.

The sky is blue
and the stream rolls and sputters.
It’s foreign water, soothing the asphalt, stealing my eye.
I make the bend, and under my feet
the river eases woe and strain
roaring, rolling, running, bittersweet

A beautiful waste





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iW0ntRunThisTime said...
Jul. 23, 2011 at 6:12 pm
Very nice!
 
kysh15 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 23, 2010 at 7:28 pm
I love the last stanza, you're really good
 
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