Derelict
I am the hole in the backyard festering
like a wound in the summer sun, gutted
earth where we buried a trampoline then
watched it rot. I am the rotting. The rotten.
Black bananas growing soft in the dark
of the pantry. Dishes crusting in the sink
after too many dinners taken in separate
rooms. The reluctant nurse late with your
medication and the new bulb for the lamp
that warms my side of the bed these days.
An incomplete library, shelves unfinished
and bare, the one you promised, another
graveyard of intent. The garage too full
with old furniture and neglected toys to fit
the car I’d leave running in the dead dead
hours before dawn if you’d let me, one last
chore to strike from the list of things left
undone. But the list—it grows. Our children
stir in their beds. I rise to get them ready
for another day. There’s much to finish
and the list grows, a tether of tasks I must
tend to. I am the weeds that surround lime
and orange trees along our fence line,
too stubborn to wither in this bitter winter.
Ronnie K. Stephens holds a Bachelor of Arts in Classical Studies, a Master of Arts in Creative Writing, a Master of Fine Arts in Fiction, and a PhD in English. His research centers the role of poetry in subverting antiethnic and anti-LGBTQ legislation affecting public education. He is the author of three books: Universe in the Key of Matryoshka, They Rewrote Themselves Legendary, and The Kaleidoscope Sisters.
Currently Reading:
You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson
A Choir of Honest Killers, by Buddy Wakefield