Ewcia Rose Up

From the towns we knew and presume still stand

stand still Ewcia, dear, and one day

forget to mention them.

 

Pasts presently will transfigure

through, due to, for re-evaluations…

a spiteful Vistulan yarn left a pixilated trail

across skin ripping Deptford cement,

        as personal as wilderness.

They incur no value at the bottom of —

 

Christmas from the east with mandarins beet root soup tempted broken bottles;

Ewcia rose up for a week or two,

couldn’t pronounce her name properly.

We find it hard to believe she’d return,

How so much skin gave to anatomically prove —

 

The pasts transfigure, dear

        they valuate nothing

— best left to common knowledge

And given rhythm in the empty gut

2 Comments

    1. Will do! Thank you for your continued interest and support. And I am also generally grateful to Raleigh’s fantastic Living Poetry group – There are hot words a flyin’ in the Piedmont, all y’all best pay attention now!

      Like

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