This week's Poetry Bus is driven by the disappearing Dana Bug. She gave us a few options, and I chose the photo with the frozen sofa.
A frozen flash memoir:
Sofa!
It was one long, snow-ful winter, and this sofa just had to go. The trash company promised to pick up the old worn out sofa... no problem... same time, too! Now, trash day arrived, and it was a balmy 45º. It seemed that everyone and their kin decided to take a stroll past the house with an old couch strategically placed on top of the piled snow right at the edge of the street. Hours passed slowly. That particular day, the trash truck didn't arrive until very late in the afternoon, yet each walker, runner, bike rider craned his/her neck to get a good view of this ugly piece of furniture, shifting as the snow pile melted. Ugh! An entire day of sheer embarrassment!
And here's a poem... but on another perception of the sofa in snow:
Genesis
Another one of those days!
But now she is home;
it would all be better.
Except it wouldn’t -
cold, ice cold, here, there.
Her thoughts darken:
nothing familiar about
their contrived door
through which she’d never
be granted permission to enter.
So she lay down her head
weary of the insanity
surrounded by frigid cruelty.
Even her warm tears,
now icicles crudely formed,
dangle precariously
from her drifting mind.
Then, a warmth envelops her
as she dies to surrender.
Then, a warmth envelops her
as she dies to surrender.
Jeanne I. Lakatos 2011