We are an emergency room
Will litanies arrive?
We are the house and the tree,
in somebody else’s story.
We pass the field of poppies;
we collect red graffiti,
sacred nouns,
red relics.
Psalms spread their tents
and light their cigarettes.
Essay in THE BEST AMERICAN ESSAYS 2018;
(cited in BAE 2015, 2016, 2020); PUSHCART poetry finalist
Issue: Spring 2017 » Poetry
We are an emergency room
Will litanies arrive?
We are the house and the tree,
in somebody else’s story.
We pass the field of poppies;
we collect red graffiti,
sacred nouns,
red relics.
Psalms spread their tents
and light their cigarettes.
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