No Turning Back

misty day on my windshield

misty day on my windshield (Photo credit: jypsygen)

The rain sprays spitballs against
the windshield, annoying in their haze
and every-three-seconds shrill erasure.
Inside the glass, another sleep-short night
rains a torrent on my focus of cars
blinking their red eyes awake.
But sharp plays my vision of light
blooming in our room, revealing
a landscape of bed linen knee-hills,
coverlet valleys tossed in tenderness,
and a population of two become one.

Turning back isn’t an option anymore.
I’ve come too far and to look behind
invites chain-reaction misery.
The screech of tires and wipers on nothing but
dry reality awakens me to consciousness
of my roadbed partners, no doubt lost
in the sublimity of their own dreamscapes.
I pull to the shoulder, still shrouded
in the mist of my dawn memory,
close my eyes for a better view and,
for a minute, complete my journey there.

©Joseph Hesch 2012

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20 thoughts on “No Turning Back

  1. This is intriguing. I’ve read it several times now, untangling the scenes of the road and the bedroom, waking and dreaming; the rain is a constant element; and I like that ending: pulling to the shoulder and closing your eyes ‘for a better view’.
    I notice the symmetry of 13 lines in each stanza. So there’s a turning point at the half-way mark – exactly where you tell us that turning back isn’t an option. As does the title.
    This is mightily significant therefore. But what does it signify? There I am lost. No turning back in the car journey, or in waking from sleep? Both those perhaps, but surely something beyond those. Something to do with that ‘bed partner’ maybe – not the ‘roadbed partners’ I’m sure. But what exactly? Beats me. But I’ve enjoyed the ride.

  2. Lovely, intriguing poem, dear Joe….I love it all, but my favourite part is: “But sharp plays my vision of light
    blooming in our room, revealing
    a landscape of bed linen knee-hills,
    coverlet valleys tossed in tenderness,
    and a population of two become one.” ~ Beautiful 🙂 xoxo

    • Thank you, dear Louise. I could actually see those images and that’s what they looked like. I’m glad they struck a chord in you and that you could see them, too. 🙂 xxxx ~ j

  3. This is really immersive, Joe. You don’t just draw the map here(or activate the GPS) you bring us along in the memory trunk, driving through past present and future. If I were to pick the most evocative lines for me, it would be the ones Louise has already quoted.

  4. i like the sound descriptions the best like –

    very-three-seconds shrill erasure.

    and

    The screech of tires and wipers

    it moves the poem in and out of it’s visual imagery and emotional connotations

  5. Nice. I know that ride in the rain, when memories mix with anticipation to end the journey. I like the beginning a lot, because I felt like I was in the car being drenched in thoughts.

  6. The every-three-seconds shrill erasure… I feel like I’m in the car with you. Wonderful images… landscape of bed-linen knee hills. Love this.

  7. this has a haunting beauty… the force of nature mixed with the fragility of man’s tender heart. very powerful opening and closing lines, perfect bookends to hold the imagery you’ve offered here.

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