More Poetry by Robert R. Woods

January, 21, 2013

   haven't kept up on my "Daily Write." However I have discovered some "unfinished"  poems that I've been working on... It's a good thing to let a poem "simmer" for awhile then go back with fresh eyes and more skill. I wrote this one back in 2011 for the writing class at OCU. But I never finished it... until today.

 

Face

The blinds drawn, the day passing by without sight,

just that slushy sound cars make on wet pavement,

that rumble of unhappy engines barreling along

muttering to each other about nothing... nothing

much at all.

The day woke him, greeted him with a smaller cage

than the one he went to sleep in. The low ceiling

of his apartment made him hunch over as he

staggered to the kitchen. Even the coffee freshly

brewed seemed somewhat flat, not bitter enough

to push his fantasies into unconsciousness.

Yes, he’d been dreaming that face, again.

Even as the day split noon, and the sun began

to force itself between the cracks in the blinds,

his mind was still… full of face.

A face so desperately deep in the past

that he didn’t recognize it anymore,

couldn’t put a name to it though he

was certain that sometime ago

it had meant... something to him.

It was a soft face, a girl, short, spiked hair,

a tattoo of an open rose on one cheekbone,

a smile which exposed a set of bright

but crooked teeth, and a faint chuckle

that never seemed to lose its breath...

Who the fuck was she...?

She stayed in his mind through the first

cup of coffee, the first cigarette, the first

stretch of arms, and legs, the first, second

and third sigh that confirmed he was awake.

Although her look wasn’t unpleasant,

That laugh began to tear at him.

barefooted, he  paced back and

forth across the carpet in the small

apartment, he yelled and screamed

at the unyielding walls, began to smoke

one cigarette after another.

He forced the blinds open, stared

out at the street now crowded with passing cars

and Elm trees that shimmied in an afternoon breeze.

Yes, the world was intact still there… But he wasn’t.

He couldn’t visualize himself in the world…walking

down the street or riding his bicycle through the deadly

Oklahoma heat. Even the bathroom mirror refused

to reflect his image. All he could see in front of him

was that damn face. And that hideous insane laugh,

It left a stain on the inside of his skull.

rrw o1-21-13