Sunday, August 5, 2012

Saturday Poetry: Red Hook Houses

I know, I know, it's Sunday.

(from "Turn Left At the Dead Dog")


After the plant closed
and he lost his last job
after that boy got shot
and the school turned black
she stopped going out at night.

To get from the train to the house
there was no bus to take.
After all that
she swore she’d get out.
Now it’s too late.

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