Thomas Pitre Poet Free verse

The Cyclist

Lean predators move along in the morning fog
in their yellow and black suits. 
Wheels spin 
and we hear the brittle hum 
and buzz 
of spokes, cogs and chains.

There is no courtesy bell,
or a chipper “on your right” as they
pass an older woman running on
the trail. 
They, unconscious,
slide past on both sides
taking her by surprise and
stealing some of her breath. 

The middle-aged mantis
in the lead 
sheathed in a gray, wrinkled skin 
determined, but selfish 
to others on the trail.

As they coast on, the tick tick,
and click click of ratchets and pawls
is all we hear as the pale creatures
move forward through the morning
oblivious to all 
but themselves.

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Denis Joe February 5, 2009 at 5:36 AM This is great! I love the images that are presented here. There is only a sense of condemnation of the subjects in the narrative and in some cases there seems compassion ('middle-aged mantis' reminds me of Zukofsky's use of that insect in his outstanding sestina). The enjambment is great creating a sense of speed, especially in the second stanza. This is writing at its best because it objectivies the subject and allows the reader to engage.