Flag folded, receipt penultimate,
bridges slumping, leaves rotten, brown
edges curling inward, race
under the trusses, down, down
ahead of the ice crystals, coagulating
skyward in cobalt, excess sterile
cold, fingers coiled
in monographs of the mid-Atlantic
tributaries, the seasonal
whims of native ragweeds
beseeching the shore, bottles
exit with lips agog, fomenting
the latest hallucination.
Peach clouds and streaked chrome, all things always tumbling
Gregory McGreevy lives and writes poetry in Baltimore, Maryland. His work has previously been featured in West Trade Review, Snarl, Bourgeon Online, and The Northern Virginia Review, among others.
Image: Acroterion, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons