Jacksonville, Alabama

Ronnie Festok

This is as far from war

As I’ll ever be, among 

Gun stores and flea markets,

Hitch-hike and pick-pocket.

The finite is an afternoon

Pastime spent in graveyards

As the air cloys with eulogy

Or simmering heat or church

Bells – I don’t recall. I only remember 

The taste of honeysuckle fondly,

The spectacle of their unveiling

Desire. Here, everything 

Makes a name out of its absence.

Lonicera chrysantha.

Dolly’s Craft Store. My mother

And her hijab. What else

Do we keep but our names?

Even this voice will one day wilt - 

Forget the dead laughing at us

And our attempts to make a home.

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