I’ve been thinking a lot about Cincinnati lately, recalling the first glimpse…
Today you do not feel thirty but barely
twenty parked along the Blue Ridges,
when you wore the night around your hips,
your mouth a passage he rewrote over
and over. All that mattered was the restless
tangle, the threat of blue lights, sirens
you watched for over his shoulder.
Today you feel like you did at twelve
when you cooled your feet in the creek,
could swear you heard folktales in the wind,
& beyond lightening bugs lanterned the barn,
You wondered then what it was to pass away.
You feel that today is the day of your birth,
yet also the afternoon when your memory
began to record, the old Super 8
of your mind switched suddenly on.Subscribe to read the full text.