Equinox
The street buckles under her feet. Her purse
swings like the sun on fast-forward. The glitter
of dimes in the gutter, on her knees.The German
shepherd charging, restrained. Apologies whispered,
shouted. Restrained twice. Hot breath builds
its own atmosphere on her cheek. A high tin
sound like an angry cook at the sink: clatter,
clatter. Her hands at the sides of her head,
in her butter-colored hair. The sky before her
a jerky, old-timey film, eyelids fluttering up.
1 comment:
Unless I'm grossly misunderstanding it, this sounds like a paradox: a stylish PSA.
Using no excess words it calls up the images of events that unfold rather than telling you. Neatly done.
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