2 poems by Douglas Richardson

A Wayward Son

Though your earnestness was never questioned,
you spent all your years becoming an expert in
arcana for which no employer would pay a wage.
Now, thanks to you, the town is in perpetual darkness.
You think the children should be afraid of you,
but a boy gives you his bicycle.
You flip it upside down and crank the pedal.
The free-spinning wheel lights up the sky
and churns barrels of the finest ice cream.


You Survived the Ordeal

now red wine
stains a cork
the heat of it
in the afternoon
your mind
quiet enough
for fire


Published by

Jeremiah Walton

Jeremiah Walton is wary of writing a bio.

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