Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Hannah Jane Weber


It rained last night  
and the streets are weeping 
curbs rise from the demure wet 
like the bare shoulders of a woman 

in the distance - 
a whoop of red 
just a little bit of color 
fat with vibrancy 

it asks me politely to look 
I am beseeched 
but softly so 

I bring myself close 
helpless to the tug of temptation 
the wild crimson is caught in a drainage ditch 
defying the darkness that is 
ready to devour 

it is an unclasped necklace 
a snake soon to be slurped 

I reach to touch the baubles 
the buoyant scales 
and pull back with sudden comprehension 

held in the teeth of the drain 
are the bright berry cloaked turds 
of a wild animal 
perhaps the refuse of a relieved raccoon  
as she discarded an afternoon’s worth of treasure 
across the dainty clavicles of the curb 

From I-70 Review, Summer/Fall 2014

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