image from Father & Daughter by Michael Dudok De Wit
Today’s prompt was to write a poem in which the lines are memories (and could start with I remember, but I forgoed that part.) This is definitely the start of something, but is long from a finished piece.
the first time he cried. our dog had died and was wrapped
in a blanket next to a hole in the ground. the wind, down at the mouth,
fed me the unfamiliar sound.
lost in his coat the fireworks. as saved to last explosions thundered
in my bones. fear and exhilaration.
the wasps spilling from the loft hatch. the itch of their terrible wings
and the low hum, in swarm, like a warning growl.
the smell of the car: wet dog & sand, a cemented scent
that I can no longer get close to. a frisbee of scalp
floating above the headrest forever driving us home.