unplowed

fields,

a corpse

of a motel

vacancy

sign. broken

 

hanging

words,

an agaram.

 

of vowels.

blue, peeling

Madonna

 

upright

in a sawed

off tub.

 

then a T

in the road;

I go left

 

purely out

of superstition.

then nothing

 

but a leveled

house, a three foot

jump with the steps

 

missing. a Methodist

Church with a stump

of a steeple,

 

signboard strewn

among hanks

of grass. Sunday’s

 

bible verse remains

but with the author’s

name unknown.

 

———-
Richard Luftig is a former professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio, now residing in California. He is a recipient of the Cincinnati Post-Corbett Foundation Award for Literature, and a semi-finalist for the Emily Dickinson Society Award. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals across the United States and internationally.

Photography by Julie van der Wekken.