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Online Issue 25 Uncategorized

Black Sheep by Casey Knott

Visual art by Renée Cohen 

 

 

Hot pink and lonely amidst road

grime and weeds—a child’s

 

stuffed whale along the freeway,

tossed one day as a lesson

 

in regret and wonder. There now

under sun and rain and wind

 

and heightened by its candid

placement, like a lone shoe

 

in the gutter—some sign of life

lived. Like you and the veins

 

that scream along your arms

are alive in me.

 

You have no business being

here but you are, a shopping cart

 

in the woods, a stairway to nowhere.

You are a Styrofoam cup in the crook of a tree.

 

These hearts of ours have no bounds.

We are plastic bags that sail

 

from phone towers, hoping to

belong. And fools for ever wanting to.

 

And here we are with all these

things we’re bound to lose.

 

Our cities are studded with forgetfulness

and good intentions, like shoes laced

 

and strung from electric lines along

the alleyways of our rhinestone wishes.

 

Never to be worn again.

They kick our shins, make us look all the same.

By gulfstreamlitmag

www.gulfstreamlitmag.com