The most literal poem I've ever written.

Silent Story

Vultures are flying around this neighborhood
Moving in circles that form shadows where
Spiders spin webs in rapid rhythm. Before them,
This place was a library.
In that library there
Were books about planes and Indians.
People read these books
In silence under fluorescent
Lights that heated the ink
That would melt the words and they
Changed according to the time or to the
Person who possessed it.
Before the books, there were stories;
But they too would change
And disintegrate under the
Heat. The library
Stood in place of a house that
Once had life. The laughter cracked
The concrete foundation and it crawled
Up the walls into the rooms
Until it reached the top.
The life crumbled
Within the house
While the highway behind it
Murmured through the wind.
There were once cars on that
Highway.
They drove on cracked
Pavement that zig
Zagged all the
Way down
To the train railing
Out of control
Into the pit
Beneath the highway
Where the cars
Fell onto each other.
Some cars would break away
And drive backwards towards
The beginning of the ramp where trees
Quaked from the ground up in silent anticipation.
The leaves fell down upon the lawns and the children
Played in them with their ears to the ground listening
To the sound of thunder.

©08 VAW

Just think outside the box on this one. It isn't as odd as it may seem =]