A current crosses the darkness,
stirring the last dry shreds of life.

Upwind, a Buick stalks the edge of the pavement,
her voice a gentle rumble in her throat.

Her eyes simmer like the smoke snarling up
from a hammered anvil.

The neon tattoos her skin so it is
striped orange, a strobed tiger, crouched, impatient.

Feather and ivory. A slow, livid burning
in the undergrowth.

Just under the awnings they flash phosphorescence
flamingo flamingo and then vanish into air.

From the antlered shadows a drunkard lurches.
His legs spindle under him like a newborn gazelle.

The window blinds drift and flutter,
hovering wings.

Somewhere on the savannah something watches
with incandescent eyes.


  1. Beautiful imagery... only comment is the "its" in relationship to the Buick. Would you consider "her," giving it an even more "living" connotation?

  2. Very astute observation, I love how detail-oriented you are, like I am.

    When I composed this, I debated this very thing. I decided that I needed "it" to connote more the feral, impersonal, predatory nature of the Buick - versus the more sympathetic and personal "his" for the drunkard, the prey.

    But then again, the "he" vs "her" dynamic might make that tension stronger; especially since the primary predators on the savannah are usually the female. Hmmm...

    Yes, "her" is the right word. Thank you.

  3. The female imagery definitely works. Gorgeous stuff.

  4. Short link -

  5. enjoyed it.

    powerful lines,

  6. a definitely well fine tuned piece.


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