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Lexington Poetry Month
article by
Chaiya Miller

On a 50s, turquoise vinyl chair, 
flashlight in hand, our sitter reads
her Bible, one eye wa n der in g
in my direction. “Don’t you be
talking when it thunders, God is.”       

With my 70s, flower-embedded candle,
I stand in peace as the end, according
to my landlady, draws near. “Savage
thunderstorms spew God’s wrath!” 
(Wonder if her cockroaches will live.)  

Now, wind whips black canvas awning
spills a torrent of water onto leaning,
red brick retaining wall, as elm roots surely
inch its slant closer to the drive; thunder lacking,
I predict lacebark’s tawny seeds will appear in fall.      

2 responses to “Prophesies”

  1. Linda Caldwell says:

    Truthful growth in time travel

  2. Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone says:

    The last line is amazing!

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