Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Tamara Oakman reads 'Snatched': 'She never saw him coming'

Tamara Oakman reads 'Snatched': 'She never saw him coming'

Travel Deals

 

Snatched

 

What does it mean

to be in the parking lot—

a bending weed under ocean—

 

retrieving a bag of frozen peas

from the ground, and then

gone—

 

divorced from life—

forced into a new marriage

where mystery has carved “CROATOAN”

 

into a tree? Now, she is Stonehenge;

a group of lonely stones

thrusting history into sky.

 

She said, she said, she said,

it will not happen to me,

but there are hundreds of victims a year,

 

predators hiding in bushes—

invisible as wind—six foot seven dog catchers—

nets, raised guillotines.

 

Silly to face the needle all life long

and not know it, wagging a happy tail

till the death serum stops the wag

 

mid-beat. The peas slip from her hand,

fall onto black,

rattle their tale to the melting tar.

 

She never saw him coming.

The dog catcher hauls her off

leaving the trunk open, driver’s seat empty,

 

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