-Their last impression was distinctive, at least.
I haven’t seen them since the last time I watered my garden,
back when the flowers were still crawling.
They were all smug and stiff-looking,
like they had some kind of secret,
but no one’s seen them since
and nobody knows what to think anymore.
It’s hard to know what’s what, especially nowadays when “what” so often falls on deaf ears.
It’s hard to hear over the screaming of the television, you know.
It almost makes me miss the sound of weedwhackers, dark and grainy in the humid air.
There’s nothing like thick noise on a hot summer day to make you want to lop off something’s head,
and stems break easier than necks,
and with far fewer consequences too...
Nowadays I’m not sure what happened to my watering can (maybe it’s under the porch steps),
and I haven’t seen my neighbors since the last time they got out the weedwhacker.
Nobody’s seen them.
Nobody’s really been outside.
We’ve all been shut up inside with the television wailing,
the cacophony burrowing
It’s a little hard to focus
when your mind’s shut off,
but I think we’re doing well,
considering the circumstances.
The neighborhood went bad so very quickly.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it could burn in one.
Flowers are the same way.
They don’t grow all at once,
but they can die overnight.
At least lightning never strikes the same place twice,
and the cable expires soon. (We’re all getting a bit mad here, so hopefully no one will pay the bill.) Love,
Garth Fields .
#poetry #writersofinstagram #shortfiction #dystopia #photography #shadows #silhouette