by Anne Graue
Fuselage will float
from the sky
no longer burning
in the coming days.
Long after the search &
rescue has turned
to recovery;
long after the stages
of grief
have been observed
and discarded,
someone will find
a seatbelt, a cushion,
a glimmer of metal
or they will find
nothing at all.
Anne Graue writes poetry and teaches online from her home in New York's Hudson Valley. Her poems have appeared in Paradigm, Compass Rose, Sixfold Journal, and The 5-2 Crime Poetry Weekly, and she was a finalist in the Patricia Dobler Poetry Award competition for 2013. She has written reviews of literary magazines for NewPages.com.
Today's News . . . Today's Poem
The New Verse News
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Showing posts with label seatbelt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seatbelt. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Monday, December 02, 2013
REMNANTS OF THE CRASH
by Kristina England
Headline: "Actor Paul Walker dies in car crash,"
the blaze making his beautiful face unidentifiable.
All I can think is "I hope he died on impact"
because that wasn't the case for you -
no seatbelt, ejected at high speeds,
thrown under your own wheels,
those once vibrant eyes dulling
under the red and white flash of disaster,
your son, stuck in the backseat,
begging for "momma" to soothe
his temporary and long-term boo-boos
as you shuddered out the last breaths
of mother, wife, friend on your graveled grave.
Maybe the driving laws were never meant for the driver.
Maybe they are there for the ones left behind
with the gut-wrenching task of identifying
a once beautiful face.
Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her fiction and poetry is published or forthcoming at Extract(s), Gargoyle, The Story Shack, Tipton Poetry Journal.
Headline: "Actor Paul Walker dies in car crash,"
the blaze making his beautiful face unidentifiable.
All I can think is "I hope he died on impact"
because that wasn't the case for you -
no seatbelt, ejected at high speeds,
thrown under your own wheels,
those once vibrant eyes dulling
under the red and white flash of disaster,
your son, stuck in the backseat,
begging for "momma" to soothe
his temporary and long-term boo-boos
as you shuddered out the last breaths
of mother, wife, friend on your graveled grave.
Maybe the driving laws were never meant for the driver.
Maybe they are there for the ones left behind
with the gut-wrenching task of identifying
a once beautiful face.
Kristina England resides in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her fiction and poetry is published or forthcoming at Extract(s), Gargoyle, The Story Shack, Tipton Poetry Journal.
Labels:
crash,
death,
driving,
face,
grave,
impact,
Kristina England,
laws,
new verse news,
Paul Walker,
poetry,
seatbelt,
speed,
wheels
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