rust. Being one phase of corruption, a matter of
resolve. When I surrender, the implication is of giving
over, moving above, allowance. Delivering despite
the steady flaking away at what colors me intact.
The quiet evening had lulled me to this inevitability:
when oxides subsume the original metal, the expansion
may result in catastrophe. Yesterday’s arc, tomorrow’s
trial. Failure’s bloom.


* * *


“Aftermath” first appeared in the print publication Sheepshead Review. Thank you to Audrey Schultz and staff for taking this poem.

17 thoughts on “Aftermath

  1. Hey, you don’t have to be stainless to be steel, Robert! 🙂
    There’s something about this – can’t pinpoint exactly what – that I like about this; enough to have made me read it a couple of times over.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is very clever. We fail, move aside, we give ourselves over to what comes next. Shiny and new, we fade; corrosion sets in and consumes our original form. It doesn’t happen all at once; it is a trial. But in our corrosion — our corruption, our catastrophic ending — we transform yet again. Painted metal will chip and flake; exposed metal rusts and blooms. Our bloom is not our failure, but our continued transformation.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. This, I’d say is absolutely brilliant. I read it over and over again 🙂 and I realize that we humans have so much to learn from life and loss. More ink to your pen Bob.

    Liked by 1 person

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