Mark Power

Easton, Illinois

Yesterdays

pushing through darkness upward
into sunlight bruise purple briars
tangle in a knotted mass throughout
the hedgerows that border vast fields
of desolate straw grass eating away
the abandoned farm beneath the ticking
prairie clock that echoes across the
back of time who has taken his pound of
flesh as payment for the years of bounty

and walking now amid skeleton buildings
i pass the barn where men once put up
hay for long winters and i approach the
yard where children once played with
unbridled innocence beside the house which

upon entering i notice a rainbow arching
boldly down behind cobwebs slung lazily in
the corner of the sun bleached window frame
through which a fly intrudes to careen
throughout the universe of empty rooms where
holes in the roof let sunbeams fall to feed
the fires that consume old houses
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