March 2017
Nancy Scott
nscott29@aol.com
nscott29@aol.com
After the past few weeks of living with Alternate Facts and endless Tweets, I feel as if I've fallen into a nether world. The surrealistic component of this poem fits my state of mind. Normally, I am a rational, narrative poet, some say too much so, but I prefer my norm to the New Norm. I am also the author of lots of poetry books, which dissect many facets of my life. www.nancyscott.net
The Boy with Ice Eyes
for Jimmy
Death was hungry, needed a fix,
watched the boy with ice eyes
drive a ’64 Mustang up Potrero Hill.
Death growled, It’s getting late,
as the Mustang hovered ready to fly
down the other side of the hill.
The boy’s foot hit the gas,
Death lunged, snatched the brake hoses.
The Mustang careened at 55 mph
straight for the traffic on Third.
His ice eyes took aim to make the turn,
hands steady, the boy rammed
the Mustang into the granite wall
of the United Methodist Church.
KABOOM
All Hell broke loose.
Angels on duty that night
took after Death with a Flying Wedge.
Time froze, owls gasped,
the moon scooted behind the church spire.
The boy climbed out
of the demolished car
without a scratch.
Death shook off dirt from Potrero Hill,
looked at the car, looked at the boy,
spat out a feather.
"The Boy with Ice Eyes" first appeared in author's book, Down to the Quick (Plain View Press, 2007)
© 2017 Nancy Scott
© 2017 Nancy Scott
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