In order to view this poem as the author intended it to appear, we suggest reading it on a computer screen or in the landscape orientation on your phone.

Still Life
Rick Smith

It’s a lost and vacant face
alone in the back seat,
staring at the passenger window
of a ‘93 Ford Escort.

The window is smashed,
holding together like a web,
bulging and straining against rupture,
glistening and opaque in fading light.

There’s nothing to see anyway
and now, so late in the game,
so many years burned
and turned to ash,
she smokes and stares
at a window,
not through it.

The smoke curls into stillness.
The car’s not moving.
It never will.

—
Rick Smith is a clinical psychologist specializing in brain damage and domestic violence. He practices in Rancho Cucamonga, California. He is also a professional harmonica player who writes and plays for The Mescal Sheiks and can be heard on the soundtrack of the Academy Award-winning Days of Heaven. Recent books are The Wren Notebook (2000), Hard Landing (2010), and Whispering in a Mad Dog’s Ear (2014), all from Lummox Press. His essay “Snowed in with Carl Sandburg” appeared in the 2019 issue of Under the Sun.

Know anyone who might appreciate reading Rick’s poem?
Why not share the link to this page?

Have you read these poems:
Serendipity by Gary Harrison
Uncertainty by Robert Bullard

Table of Contents