by V. Penelope Pelizzon
For Nicole Cuddeback and Antonio Ambrosio
Thank Christ for outskirts, where the river pulls you
east or west beyond brilliance into the merely making do,
scrappy verges where the water eddies and people
unremarkably rake their gardens or tinker under cars.
Please, please let’s ignore the genius of the past today.
I need a walk with you along the margins where history’s only
years among friends and the only image of heaven
a glimpse of lemon trees beyond a rusty gate,
someone burning trash in a yard and whistling.
*Photo courtesy Piers Nye.