08-12-2014, 03:46 AM
edit #1:
I.
It is a fault,
a tear in the crust
where plates slip past each other
and grind edges in unchecked fury.
It is
the constant threat of quakes,
the remembrance of tremors past,
the fear of what is to come:
the big one.
II.
He unfolds the map of California in his lap,
shoves a Marlboro in his mouth
and lights his way to freedom.
The Mustang shrinks into a blip of color
as she stares out over the scarred plain,
the car’s candy-apple red body blazing
across the Central Valley scrubland.
Her shadow wavers in the hot sun,
a dust-covered caricature
with outstretched arms
and trembling fingers.
Beneath her feet, the ground
shifts without warning
and gives way.
Original:
I.
It is
a fault,
a tear in the crust,
a place where plates slip
past each other and grind
their edges in unchecked fury.
It is
the constant threat of quakes,
the uncertainty of life,
the remembrance of tremors past,
the fear of what is to come—
the big one.
II.
He folds the map of California in his lap,
shoves a Marlboro in his mouth
and lights his way to freedom.
She watches him drive away,
the candy-apple red Mustang
a shrinking blip of color
in the bland Central Valley scrubland.
Her shadow wavers in the hot sun,
a dust-covered caricature
with outstretched arms
and trembling fingers.
Beneath her feet, the ground
shifts without warning
and gives way.
I.
It is a fault,
a tear in the crust
where plates slip past each other
and grind edges in unchecked fury.
It is
the constant threat of quakes,
the remembrance of tremors past,
the fear of what is to come:
the big one.
II.
He unfolds the map of California in his lap,
shoves a Marlboro in his mouth
and lights his way to freedom.
The Mustang shrinks into a blip of color
as she stares out over the scarred plain,
the car’s candy-apple red body blazing
across the Central Valley scrubland.
Her shadow wavers in the hot sun,
a dust-covered caricature
with outstretched arms
and trembling fingers.
Beneath her feet, the ground
shifts without warning
and gives way.
Original:
I.
It is
a fault,
a tear in the crust,
a place where plates slip
past each other and grind
their edges in unchecked fury.
It is
the constant threat of quakes,
the uncertainty of life,
the remembrance of tremors past,
the fear of what is to come—
the big one.
II.
He folds the map of California in his lap,
shoves a Marlboro in his mouth
and lights his way to freedom.
She watches him drive away,
the candy-apple red Mustang
a shrinking blip of color
in the bland Central Valley scrubland.
Her shadow wavers in the hot sun,
a dust-covered caricature
with outstretched arms
and trembling fingers.
Beneath her feet, the ground
shifts without warning
and gives way.