In The Third Year of the Drought
by Marianne Szlyk
Drapes across the windows
conceal the landscape outside:
the solitary trees, the metallic sky,
the scuffed hills that were once
pillows for a dead man’s dreams,
back when it rained all winter
and he was a young man
imagining himself old.
Only the migrants are outside,
riding bicycles on the ash-black road
in the harsh sun and constant drought.
Inside, a cat toys with cardboard,
imitating the sound of rain on branches
and leaves over the roof,
covering over the sounds
of the bicycles and the men’s Spanish:
trabajo, trabajo, borracho, trabajo.
Marianne Szlyk lives in the Washington, DC suburbs without a car and likes to walk in the city, so the name of this press appeals to her. Her poems have appeared in Of/with, Pyrokinection, Aberration Labyrinth, The Blue Hour, The Camel Saloon, and Poppy Road Review as well as in several anthologies by Kind of a Hurricane Press. She hopes that you will consider submitting a poem or two to her fall contests at The Song Is..:
http://thesongis.blogspot.com/2014/09/welcome-to-fall-contests-part-1.html and http://thesongis.blogspot.com/2014/09/welcome-to-fall-contest-part-2.html