Everywhere in the World

Her name is Magdalena. Was it meant
To be the tether which would keep her
In this town forever? If it was, it didn't
Work. She went to college, got a job
With some firm, far off in a city.
Look at her. Her hair is blue.
She consorts with the sorts
Of people, blacks and Asians,
Lesbians, and gay men, who,
Though they are here, must always
Keep their feelings secret. She no
Longer goes to church, and, when she
Comes, she loudly tells us that her world's
Thriving, while ours ages and grows, how's
She put it?, threadbare. We're all old
And dying. We've become somewhat
Adept at tarnishing her gleaming realm,
But we can't diminish it. We can't
Reanimate our own. Our Magdalena's
Gone for good, and she is telling us
The truth. It won't be too long before
We're no more than epitaphs.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 14 times
Written on 2021-06-18 at 03:03

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