Monday, December 26, 2016

Underground, a prose poem by Jared Carter


Underground

by Jared Carter

      The two children – abruptly shoved off the platform into the path of an oncoming train – are not in that instant crushed by the wheels, but instead dissolved against the event horizon of a black hole suddenly materialized out of another galaxy.
      Its unknowable surface accepts each of them. The girl becomes a dove caught by the softest, lightest of nets, the boy a silver fish trapped in a riverbank weir.
      The subway tunnel with its overhead coffers, the platform, the people standing along the edge, the train braking to a stop – all of this translates into long filaments of irretrievable data.
      Agamemnon announces that the wind has risen, and the Achaeans can now set their sails.


Bio: Jared Carter’s sixth collection, Darkened Rooms of Summer, was published in 2014 by the University of Nebraska Press. He lives in Indianapolis

1 comment:

erin said...

and so my damaged modern heart is awarded the chance of rebirth too!

absolutely wonderful!