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And so. Just so.

Lines of vines
cling to string.
A swooping tree
dangles hard round fruit,
so green.
Rhubarb, tended,
raises its flower flags.
All this, in the brash and beautiful
life of July.

In a late afternoon cruise
I come, by chance,
to the scene of a sad and early death.
Bouquets by the roadside.
A styrofoam cross.
Tattooed tire marks, black on grey.
Fresh and smooth asphalt
covers that which was melted away.
The stains of her blazing death can’t be scrubbed.

In the small silence of an out of place town
I slow, scolded by the flashing speed sign.
Things cry out for paint.
A little care is all they ask.
A pair of toddlers pursue one another,
tan knees all scabbed.
Will they see a good life,
or seep into this stolid realm
of used-to-be.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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