Thursday, December 15, 2011



A path. A stripped-
off stripe of lawn
with the grass gone,
dirt exposed. Gravel
over top, or rock,
or mud. A place
that tells us where
to cross a field
as if it were a
river. A scar we
give to the ground
by pressing down
on it with our feet.
We drag our bodies
around and rubble
trails behind us,
a shadow, a tail
of rattling dust and
debris, plumage
loud as the cans
strung up behind
a sedan proclaiming
Just Married!


  1. I did not expect those last two lines! Wonderful how you reached them.

    Your images here are strong; I especially like "a tail / of rattling dust and / debris/ plumage/ loud as the cans / strung up".

  2. What a twist at the end! I'll leave it at that, except to say that I too like the images and the overall implications of trails we make.

  3. Great poem - I read so many metaphors between the lines that you've written. Dragging rubble around and leaving a wake of destruction behind us :)

  4. I had to laugh because I frequently see trails on well groomed lawns because people don't like the paved way that they have to take...I have found this to be very annoying and have suggested that we allow people to wonder about at random and then draw the trails one has listened to me yet! Lovely poem as always!

  5. I love "a scar we give to the ground."

  6. I love the ending, but this is my favorite line: "A scar we give to the ground by pressing down
    on it with our feet."


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