L.A. Weekly Poetry: 'Silver: 4 Connotations' by Jena Ardell | Public Spectacle | Los Angeles | Los Angeles News and Events | LA Weekly
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Poetry

L.A. Weekly Poetry: 'Silver: 4 Connotations' by Jena Ardell

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Fri, Feb 10, 2012 at 9:00 AM

click to enlarge A.C. THAMER VIA LA WEEKLY FLICKR POOL


LA Weekly
is now taking poetry submissions. Interested in

having your work posted right here on our arts blog? Send previously

unpublished poems along with an image to go with it to poetry@laweekly.com. Check out today's

poem after the jump.

Silver: 4 Connotations
By Jena Ardell

Silver in San Fernando Valley

(fast, shiny and new)

Two beams

silver headlights

slice through the night sky,

                           like bullets,

 down Mulholland Drive

Lights divide

cutting quadrants

across bedroom walls

before disappearing

into the darkness

   quickly

        fleeting,

              now

         careening,

      down

           Topanga

            Cyn.

        Blvd.

where partygoers stay awake

 'til the stars are swallowed

by the San Fernando Valley fog

that pesters L.A. drivers

 Freeway road rage

   as sunglasses

        slide

               across

polished dashboards

 tall

         wide

SUVs & Hummers

each, only holding

                               one person

This morning

make-up smears

above

       &

          below

glassy pupils,

    metallic shadow to the brow

(what

        was I thinking?)

I walk to the mailbox

in pajamas,

     bed head reflection

            in shiny numbers

No one will see

me

                because no one

         does the speed limit

It finally came today

           The steak knife

that cuts through a shoe sole

    (or at least that's what

 the infomercials say)

I don't care if it can't

      I just wanted something new

Silver

(old and used)

Wooden coffee table

slick with dew

A rare roadside treasure

free to those who can haul it away

Two giant

wet glasses stains

in the center

accented by

silver spills

of God-knows-what

The voice inside my head

says,

   "Take me,

     make me new."

Silver on the 101 (cloudy, unclear)

Slinking down the 101

         Abrupt stops.

Cherry taillights

    explode color

         into monotone sky

squinting to see

         through silver fog

an infinite amount of steam

         sl ug gish ly   sails

into my car

         through  open  windows

constant streams

         of streetlights

slur into the air

         as we

(this fog,  these strangers, myself)

         sit in the San Fernando Valley

sedated.

         wondering what minuscule detail

will distinguish this day

                                     from the last

Silver (stale, slow)

Stale

silver

smoke rings

moseying carbon monoxide

stiff

disguised cylinder

nicotine

&

tar

traces of ammonium

& cyanide

smoke me.

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