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.