Poetry |

“Remember the Red River Valley”

Remember the Red River Valley

 

No girls to love you so true out here,

not even a movie theater anywhere near.

But you can get a gas station lunch

of salty ham and cheese on white or pizza

that has a local name. The Holiday Station

even has a little dining area labeled a café,

and clean restrooms and what else

do you really need? Not trees.

Not lawns. Not streams. Birds of course,

and Mike and Linda have driven here

to show me the impoundments – artificial lakes

that are catnip to migrating birds

needing to rest and get a snack

before heading on up to Canada.

They’re just passing through and don’t care

for the family plots we pass.

each waiting for us to open one more spot

so it can swallow the next family member.

The last time we came

this far west it was to see Kevin

go into a mouth just like this,

opened then closed

in the face of the flat, black earth.

It’s up on a little hill and there are precious few

out here in the Valley.

At least he won’t feel the wind, still

blowing cold in May or the rusty hinge

call of the Prairie Larks. His father lies by his side.

His brother handed their infant son to his wife

and left to go back to harrowing

their 1000 acres or was it 5000?

Iris and I stood with his mother and

a few other family friends in the middle

of the Black Desert to say good-bye,

to Kevin but mostly to each other.

Contributor
Warren Woessner

Warren Woessner’s most recent collection of poems is Exit-Sky (Holy Cow! Press, 2019).  An attorney and Ph.D. in chemistry, he founded Abraxas magazine with James Bertolino.

Posted in Poetry

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