Anthem
There is a sundial in downtown Kannapolisbig as an above-ground pool. I watchan ROTC senior in full regaliapractice his pivot and step, his about face;an intersection; the idea of a manmarching in time– Damascus & Damascus.Sunpunctured loblollies line the roadmarked by park benches and commemorative bricks,one among them with my sister’s address.She and her ex bought into the campaign:“Carolina RR Ranch,” it reads.They nicknamed their new home,now a no man’s land. Cat pee-stained carpetpulled up to reveal original hardwood,so many staples I was on my hands and kneeswith the hot handy man passing “fuck”between us each time a screwdrivershivved the floor or skinned a knuckle.There was a time the joke would come easily–handyman, hard wood, bow chicka wow, but nowmy peephole heart keeps the thought of uslike a stifled…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2024