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Where I Live
by Alison McKenzieThis isn’t real,
Where river meets ocean
And mold grows wild-fire slick
On anything with a name.
Me and Keefer,
Like two ships
Parallel-gliding through forests
Whose trees whisper secrets
Leaf to leaf,
Hushed below the screaming layers.
This isn’t real.
Waking up to the seal-song-sounds
Along the unused railway,
Agate lined banks
Poking into unused flesh;
The rain humming
That one note
Above the television buzz
And all that cardboard.
This can’t be real -
It’s only where I live.
12/26/2010 Author's Note: We gypsies get around. Keefer is my dog.
Posted on 12/26/2010
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 12/26/10 at 08:26 PM ... nice..... |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 12/26/10 at 08:26 PM ... nice..... |
| Posted by Adam Dyson on 12/26/10 at 10:41 PM I recognise that feel of unreal. Past the damp scents and sense of misplacement, your heart will lead you home. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 01/02/11 at 09:53 PM The last 2 lines said it all- great piece. |
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