Sometimes Love is a Dry Gutter
Or a restless leaf, a footprint.
Is fault on a blameless day,
scrawled on a washed-out sky.
My friend’s music orbits his home,
worms through the cracks
in the bluest lines, ever new
and permanent, staining even his hope
long after the lights stutter away.
And the rain’s attenuated sorrows?
They’re coming, he says. Like goats
through a fence. Like lava. Like tomorrow.
* * *
“Sometimes Love is a Dry Gutter” was first featured at Vox Populi in January 2017. I’m grateful to editor Michael Sims for supporting my work.
O at the Edges 
What a wonderfully used metaphor, Robert. Rather, a series…would that count as meta-4-5-6? Thanks for the observation(s). J
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Sometimes the words just ooze out, with little or no thought. This was one of those pieces. 🙂
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I know some of that feeling: “Who really wrote this?” Amazing what lurks between sub- and conscious doors. I treasure a photo of an antique University of Florida-themed roadster but it was years before I noticed the little Florida State University “Seminoles” stuffed rag-doll clutching an FSU pre-game spear under the left-front tire of the truck. I had though I’d captured the essence of a Gator-booster’s “tailgate-worthy” jalopy…until, finally, looked more closely. Similar occurrences with words have sometimes delighted and I’ve wondered about the pieces that come near-complete.
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I’m reading a middle grade novel by Melanie Crowder right now called PARCHED. Your poem matches it perfectly.
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Ooh! Maybe I should pick up a copy. That’s all I need, another book… 🙂
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Like goats👍🏽
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You can’t stop ’em!
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