"A severe pang or spasm of pain"
tore up the straightaway, the blind ridge road,
sneezed hot dust as it ate up the rumble-strip of the ribs
until the way was not so straight, swooping deep
down into the dank valley of armpits and out again.
Decidedly, this is where the metaphor ends.
You see him, his busted specs and turnip cheeks,
calling out any name he can remember.
He's not starving yet, you can tell;
and his handkerchief whips and snakes
against the wind like a black flag.
No comments:
Post a Comment