Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Two from across the pond

Lonely Spirit

While collecting souls,
I stumbled upon the bones
of an old friend. We

lost touch during the
hurricane, when the wind
was blowing and rain

beat against the window.
The lights flickered then failed.
I left to buy whiskey

and a blanket to keep us warm.
When I returned, it was dark.
The door on the porch

was ajar, and he was gone.
How his bones came to
lie in the desert, I do not

know. I may never know.
But I drank that bottle
alone, wet and tired.

-

Midwest Mud

The mud seems almost fresh,
but the footprints fossilized
over a frozen winter, exposed
by ebbing snow.
They were likely left
by settlers moving south, seeking
steady work somewhere in Texas,

where oil has yet to run dry, where
dreams have yet to die, where
mud is still soft and squishy.

-

"Lonely Spirit" and "Midwest Mud" are included in issue 13 of Turbulence Poetry, a British poetry magazine established in 2009 and based in Hull, East Yorkshire, England. To obtain a copy of issue 13 or a subscription to Turbulence, visit the "Buying Turbulence" page

This is my first overseas publishing credit!

Eric

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