For the Welsh Marches
with lines from The Roots
This isn’t what we wanted, because who wants a road
without lines or a song that seems to bleed into elegy—
because it isn’t the time for that. It isn’t liminal, isn’t
your words as they sing so loud into sky, some slip and carry
to say rhythmically, you got to be in one place or another. You won’t
tell me to move my body like that. It isn’t all about
the static, baby, not the unbecoming. It isn’t on the plane,
not flying low over Wales like a bird looking
for space to land, it isn’t time for that either. It’s on my arm
on my drive home, it’s singing so soft I can’t help but turn
my head and tell it shush, and isn’t that all we know to do
now? It’s stitched into the sky, singing through teeth
to tell my part of the song, it’s goin’, it’s goin’,
it’s gone—and you’re welcome to that too.
ABOUT THE POET
Adam D. Weeks is an undergraduate student studying English at Salisbury University. He is the social media manager for The Shore Poetry and has poems published or forthcoming in Ninth Letter, Poet Lore, Puerto del Sol, Slipstream Press, Prairie Margins, The Allegheny Review, and elsewhere.
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