Title: Wilson
Rating: PG-13 (for violent death)
Feedback: Any and all constructive criticism would be lovely, whether e-mailed (ButterflyChica2@aol.com) or left in a review.
Disclaimer: F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby, and Ted Kooser wrote the poem Abandoned Farmhouse, whose format this is based on. I own nothing.
Notes: In school, we were assigned to write a poem about a character in The Great Gatsby, following the format of Ted Kooser's Abandoned Farmhouse. Usually, I don't post my school assignments online, but I really enjoyed this one, and I felt like sharing it. Enjoy.
Wilson
By Angel of Harmony/Harmony/Jen
He was a poor man, says the quality of his dark suit
that lies, stained, on the yellowed grass;
a stable, trusting man, too, says the grayish dust
still settled on his narrow shoulders; and a good, hardworking man,
says the worn business card in his left breast pocket
that reads: Repairs. GEORGE B. WILSON. Cars Bought and Sold;
but not a man for happiness, say his eyes,
scarred, even now, with evaporating tears and bloodshot veins.
A woman lived with him, say the stain of dried blood
mixed with the dust in the road and the cops who still
surround the empty house, and she was unfaithful
says the dog leash, seeped in the odor of an unknown pet.
She needed more, say the rusty metal chairs
and wrecked Ford that crouch in corners of the desolate garage,
and she found a way to get it, say the perfumes and hidden gossip magazines.
It was sad here, say the swirling ashes.
Something went wrong, say the watchful eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg
that still look over the tire mark gouges. Footsteps to the pool
say he wasn't thinking; the gun clutched
in his hand says he had no other choice.
And the man? He lies, curled, in the unfamiliar grass
like a clam washed up in high tide- a broken man,
the pistol still pointed at his wounded head,
teeth still clenched tight. Something went wrong, they say.