H E R M E N E U T I C C H A O S J O U R N A L
The Faithful Witness to this Unlikely Blue
I sing your spirits, Dotty. The ways you lived
On stews of juniper, potato, and bouquets of cotton
Flower. On wasabi peas, sunflower seeds and pomegranate,
In your borrowed pockets. Your arval spewed on the floor
Over and over and over. In the living room, the bedrooms,
The bathrooms, in movie theatres, watching
“My Week with Marilyn” for the seventh time. The way your shells
And pits and pieces would hoard. I still find them
In my pockets. Even now since I have left you, Dotty, years after the earth
First became his ceiling. Reminds me of how I was your first and last,
Amen. Your blandished husband, my father, stalwart. Reminds me
That you were his first but I was his last. I found a swarm of locust
In the wheel well of his ’89 Ford pickup that he used to leave parked
Behind the liquor store. I think they’re for you, Dotty.
Ally Covino is currently a first-year poet in the New Writer's Program at the University of Texas at Austin. She received her BA in creative writing from Columbia University, and is originally from San Francisco, California.
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