Central Florida

 

It is only a few acres

Sun choked and thirsty grass

 

Our house is scab brown, flaky

Pickup truck red offsets the dirt like a fresh heart

 

We made a deal to live our lives in slower motion

To pack our thoughts away in beer coolers to freeze

 

Dusk comes and we move as if underwater

Subterranean muscles have we

 

Sundays are for God

The rest of the week are for America

 

We keep our blessings in a box in the gun cabinet

Shiny and hard like so many bullets

 

 

 

 

Aimée Keeble was born in London but raised in America. Once graduating from high school, she moved back to London to pursue a career as an actress. She has been writing short stories and poems since she was a child. Her work has been recently published by the Lighthouse journal. Her greatest inspiration has been her great uncle Alexander Trocchi, a beat writer who produced a handful of novels and began a prose and poetry publication called Merlin, before he died. She hopes to follow in his footsteps and have a literary publication of her own one day.