Poetry from Dan Flore

I can’t hear you, Tracy

I can’t hear you, Tracy, the sun is in my eyes like a strange portrait of light, and I’m stuck in a seashell, drowning in the sound of the ocean. I am staggering like I’m drunk. Slurring my words. Having a seizure over and over again and I just wanted to smile for you and talk about that day at Peace Valley Park when your clothes were plain and everything was going right. When the sun was my ally and everything was green, even the dirt. This strange sphere of a planet dropped me off on the side of the road when I wasn’t looking. I’m at the graveyard now. My tombstone reads rest in pieces. I can’t hear you, Tracy. I can’t even hear myself. Tip toeing into traffic. Knees all crumpled up. How many shades of blue can one man radiate? The clock ticks like Chinese water torture over me and I wish I knew what you were saying, with your hands in your pockets, walking along the grass somewhere.

4 thoughts on “Poetry from Dan Flore

  1. A strong flash, prose poem by Dan Flore. Addressed to Tracy, whom may have been his lover, definitely his compatriot on the “side of the road”; as he imagines himself in the graveyard, she seems to be unheard, with hands in pockets, a ghost. We feel his pain expressed by image.

  2. Strong prose piece. The imagery was vivid and raw “How many shades of blue can one man radiate? The clock ticks like Chinese water torture over me …)

  3. Pingback: Synchronized Chaos April 2021: Escape Room | SYNCHRONIZED CHAOS

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