Death of a lawnmower

It died in its sleep,
dreaming of grass,
its knives silent and still,
dreaming too, its handlebars
a stern, abbreviated cross
in tall weeds. Where is he
whom it served so well?
Its work has come to nothing,
the dead keep to themselves.

“Death of a Lawn Mower” by David Ignatow



Filed under Yellow poetry (enlightening)

2 responses to “Death of a lawnmower

  1. I absolutely adore David Ignatow! You should definitely check out the book of his journals. Interesting and quirky.

    • jbrownmetaphors

      I have very little of him. I did like this poem about the mower, though. I’m trying to think about why.

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