Movement of the Myth
Legends are the dangling legs of broken puppets.
Obsession quotes from tales of frayed extension cords.
Buoyant pseudonyms clutch the rusted lampposts,
point in the direction of stopped sinks
and rosy-roofed homes. The spells within the jukebox echo
between the silos. Dreams jitterbug the pleats and pockets
of the road to Roanoke. Ballads slow stitch a low hem
on a mud-dappled cloak. The translated opening lines are
crumbled flowers beneath paint-peeled porches, plots
are frowning landlords in faded boots. All of it,
leaping from the crevasses of the collapsed birch,
swinging up and out on tangled vines, shouting
the news into empty canyons.
Lore McSpadden is a second-year graduate student at SUNY Brockport. When she’s not compulsively reading and writing poetry, she is usually lifting heavy weights: she is currently in training for her first powerlifting competition. If she had to pick one fictional character to hang out with, it would probably be Chloe from Becoming Chloe and Always Chloe.
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