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unpublished poems along with an image to go with it to poetry@laweekly.com.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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