Including Styrofoam, Rocket, And Blender - Poem by Hans Ostrom
A lime-green blender vomits a mixture. The party.
The shovel in the shed equals stolen property.
An image of the spider's body remains on the page
of the book that crushed the spider. Ideogram.
As you talk, I stare at your fingernails,
which gleam like oiled leaves under neon.
She refuses to sell her father's anvil.
We used to poke needles just under and through our skin:
no blood. The man looked at six tomatoes
and regretted inviting friends to dinner.
I want to fry many minnows,
she said. Many. ('She's losing it.')
A drawer is filled with electrical cords-
black, white, orange: to what end?
When he was eight years old, he struck another
child on the head with a croquet mallet. Clinically.
What do you mean the condom broke?
What do you mean what do you mean?
The manager pulled on his moist nose and said,
'We are going to have to wrap up this meeting.'
Closure. There was nothing left of the car.
An undetonated rocket was found in the village.
The photograph is of a child's hat in
a mud puddle, along with a styrofoam container.
Green oil makes the puddle shine in the photo.
I don't know. Have you looked online?
Comments about Including Styrofoam, Rocket, And Blender by Hans Ostrom
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda