detroit sketch #1 (for m.l.) – A Poem by Brian Gilmore

Poetry Breakfast

detroit sketch #1 (for m.l.)

looking closely i now see the chevys fords chryslers
lining these streets like paupers standing in soup lines
years ago everyone really did still believe in this.
they bought the cars. they embraced history. they sacrificed.
they were devoted followers. not a cult but invested,
so they thought. learning love is not always reciprocal
& adam smith is not around to explain anything.
there are no invisible hands seen around here anymore
that is except for hands that once pulled levers.

in detroit my korean import does not get keyed
this is the dead folklore; david halberstam writer prophetic.
as i look again at these chevys fords chryslers
lining these streets like paupers standing in soup lines
i finally make sense of this love gone bad
we are the 21st century; the epoch of wi-fi.
assembly lines are now full of phones, pads, robots
there…

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various placements – A Poem by Crystal Snoddon

Poetry Breakfast

various placements

They say there’s no real excuse for philandering, but a truism persists that after three years a man must spread his seed, leave his weaned offspring to toddle after their tired mother – it is nature, expected, metronomic monotony.

My clock chimes reminders of fallibility wound into my aging carcass. Notice how my meanderings have been tightly circuitous, repeated revolutions in creation, fornication, self-confined to familiar surroundings. But this is where I live, and every four years another man was chosen to minister to this land I inhabit but am not native to, regardless of whether my placental cord grew thickly, was severed, here.

Perhaps I am philandering with a home never given, never truly chosen, spreading weeds into fields never mine.


About the Poet:
Crystal Snoddon finds inspiration in the Canadian wilderness. Her poetry has appeared in SickLit Magazine, Waking Dawn, a Canadian anthology, and various flash…

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