Soliloquy Against a Kudzu Backdrop by Alison Pelegrin

Audience of none, superstition dictates
that I peek through the kudzu curtain
like a starlet before making an entrance
and speaking yet again on the theme
of ignorance observed in waking life.
I would like to believe these are actors I see—
rednecks so loud in their stupidity
that rather than being frightened by their antics
I find myself waiting for the punch line.
If only “heritage, not hate” weren’t a thing.
A wasp stumbled into the muddy waters
of my coffee reminding me that words can sting
and later dry their wings in my hair,
and either because I am stupid or bold, I resumed
my work of measuring shadows and waiting
for wild foxes to travel in my line of sight.
Today, everyone laughed when I delighted
as a swallow tail kite dove for nestlings,
just like I knew they would. I thought we were friends,
but I could walk away tomorrow. How can we be
so different when the same trees
rustle in all of our dreams? Something wild
stirs in me. Something wild calls my name,
and vanishes, muffled beneath a beast
of green. When I look up nothing’s left
but the ghost of wind lurching through kudzu leaves,
the movement of a horse minus the horse itself.

From: http://diodepoetry.com/pelegrin_alison/

Date: 2016

By: Alison Pelegrin (19??- )

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