Two Poems by Rob Plath: the edge, once just to see her

the edge

the cat rubs its ribs on the crank for the window
her tail whips back & forth while she stares at squirrels

the melting snow is two days old & patchy
car exhaust makes it look like dirty Styrofoam

going out to put shit in the recycling pail
I cut my finger on a Bustello coffee can lid
warm red drops burn small holes in the dirty snow

right now the sun is shining like a giant coffee can lid in the sky
slicing through the remains of winter

I am alive and Spring is booking around the corner
like a thief to snatch my blues

once just to see her

i drove home
piss drunk

on three bald tires
& the fucking rim
after a blow out

strips of rubber
on the parkway

sparks shooting
everywhere

Copyright 2007, Rob Plath. This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.

Rob Plath is a 37 year-old poet from NY. He has published well over 150 poems in nearly 60 magazines and journals. He has one book of poems called Ashtrays and Bulls (Liquid Paper Press--Home of the Nerve Cowboy) and three, forthcoming poetry collections in 2007: Tapping Ashes In The Dark (Lummox Press-in California), Sour Milk For The Soulless (Cat Scan Press-in UK), and My Soul Is A Broken-Down Valise (Pooka Press-in Canada).