“after”, “key west” and “just north”

“after”, “key west” and “just north”

after

630am
the charcoal overcoated, tenderfoot
priest shovels snow and
unlocks the timbered doors
as flurries float in the black sky city
the morning after the Nativity

few souls attend the veneration of
the first martyr,
many will follow


key west

where graves are dug and dive underwater
and the trees droop over and drown the
cemetery in time
eternal and they visit the
rotting collapsing cracked hidden plot
of marshy land
as they cruiser bike around the fence
and then visit the sea


just north

scattered pebbles strewn
out on the dusty, desert floor
as shadows emerge
from cacti, the carport
remains shaded as the
sun shakes off the night

a casita on the corner
with teal highlights
and soft shades of sand
reflects memories that remain
as a permeable canvas,
a repose for the distant

About the Author

David Anderson

David Anderson is an artist and historian from Omaha.