Bone Trucks

[Bianca Alabaster]

18 big rubber wheels
hot on the pavement
stacks of bones
long on the bed
wide and thin

powerful chains
wrapped around them
make that eerie
clinking sound

the red marks there
as if to show
the blood
bone marrow
center

Oxygen givers
were the trees
giving air
freely, to you
and me

but now
they’re wasted
log bones
hauled
across the
highways

instead of
growing in
the forests

the sacred trees
cry out for mercy
in their only voice
silence

they wait in hope
for a rescuer
to one day come
but there is none
no – not one

log bones
dead
on trucks
stripped of
their glory -
just so we can
wipe our ass.

[/b]©
7/14/2010
Bianca

[addy]

This really struck a nerve with me. It's great how you get your readers to see the story from that different angle.

It might sound a bit too crass for you, but I think you can safely use the word "shit" around the end to really drive that point home... after all the allusions to blood and death, I think it could be rather fitting and make it sound a lot angrier.

Liked this one

[billy]

i enjoyed it Bianca. specially the last verse.
i've always looked on trees as lungs but
i can also see them as log bones after reading the poem.

thanks for the read as always

[Bianca Alabaster]

thanks guys, appreciate your comments. Wow, trees as lungs, cool! So Addy, what would you suggest for a penultimate stanza with shit in it? I'm curious - I like your idea.

[addy]

Ah, well I wouldn't be able to write lines in keeping with yours, but something along the lines of how we thoughtlessly destroy that purity just to wallow in our own shit... obviously you can do it better But even right now I really appreciate how much fury you let bleed into the piece and fuel it.