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By (November 1, 2017) No Comment

I don’t like how black and white
you make this day, the morning
the color of old newsprint again.

Let me collect the paper clips
from your office drawers and construct
a suspension bridge from your desk

to mine. This city needs a river.
Those men at the park would fish
out of a toilet if they had to.

I want the sound of petticoats
to fill in for the trains
and these itchy birds.

I don’t have room for you
in any of my drawers.
The steel factories

made the city look like a war zone.
Anything white came home
black. Want me to put on these

goggles and sit in this jet
in the airplane museum
and try to get you to the heaven

you believed in? The petticoats have to be
colorful, not the white ones
I’ve been wearing under my skin.


Elizabeth Hughey is the author two poetry collections: Sunday Houses the Sunday House (University of Iowa Press) and Guest Host (National Poetry Review Press). She is the co-founder and Programming Director of the Desert Island Supply Co. (DISCO), a literary arts center in Birmingham, Alabama.