These poems are from a series inspired by reading Atlas Obscura stories while listening to a music genre randomly selected from my list. The poems were written immediately after reading, still while listening to the randomly chosen music. I frequently post these to Medium. Please share, click the clapping hands below, or help support a writer if you enjoy these.
“Embracing the Mysteries of a Trove of Hungarian Photos, Rescued From the Dustbin of History” (read article here)
female folk singers
Every spring we throw our shoes, or ghosts,
a few of our angels onto the street — we give them away
to destroy their context. Truth be told I’ve kept
the leopard pants, all for myself. I thought you
were too skinny, too boyish, had a face like a teenager
until you put on the leopard pants and then became
a man in my eyes. I kept the leopard pants
and dropped you on the street with the sheet music
to the song I’ve had in my head for years.
Some things can’t be left on the street.
I thought looking at these photographs
would make me wise, but then I remember
I threw away the ugly ones, or the ones where
the solar flares obliterated all our faces.
I wish I’d kept those. I found a photograph
of the time I had brunch with my lover.
We sat next to each other in the restaurant booth,
had early beers, did the crossword together.
In the picture, he looks bored and I look angry.
It was a very nice day. The trouble with ghosts
is the trouble with photographs. The trouble
with putting things on the street is that you
never get them back. The trouble with putting
things on the street is that you never really give
them away. Their absence is just another thing
you keep.
You can find me at http://www.erinlyndalmartin.com or on Twitter at @erinlyndal.
