Inheritance

By BRIAN SIMONEAU

 
Watch where now we walk: city shuttered from its own
past, abandoned tracks replaced with mulch and gravel
 
trails coursing through a park of imported forest
the way original sin veins every future.

 
Given choice, let’s follow the snake who understood
nothing’s good as its promise, every deception
 
possible only when still we fail to notice
what stink survives beneath the shine, still so willing
 
to lose ourselves to bliss. See: each path leading in
also leads out, exile the end of every road.

 

 

[Purchase Issue 19 here.] 

Brian Simoneau is the author of the poetry collection River Bound. His second collection, No Small Comfort, is forthcoming from Black Lawrence Press in 2021. His poems have appeared in Boston Review, The Cincinnati Review, Colorado Review, Crazyhorse, Four Way Review, The Georgia Review, Mid-American Review, Salamander, Third Coast, and other journals. Originally from Lowell, Massachusetts, he lives near Boston with his family.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Inheritance

Related Posts

February 2026 Poetry Feature: Fatimah Asghar and Shane Moran

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i cursed the frog / that found its way into / my house. murderous, i laid / poison for the ants. i threw / my moon in the trash. / when he cheated, i wished / him a hall of mirrors. / doomed to endless versions / of him. i prayed they’d undo / each other. & they did. i took / from the earth without permission."

Mountain, Stone

LENA KHALAF TUFFAHA
Do not name your daughters Shaymaa, / courage will march them / into the bullet path of dictators. / Do not name them Sundus, / the garden of paradise calls out to its marigolds, / gathers its green leaves up in its embrace. / Do not name your children Malak or Raneem, / angels want the companionship

Book cover of suddenly we

Poems from suddenly we by Evie Shockley

EVIE SHOCKLEY
one vote begets another / if you make a habit of it. / my mother started taking me / to the polls with her when i / was seven :: small, thrilled / to step in the booth, pull / the drab curtain hush-shut / behind us, & flip the levers / beside each name she pointed / to, the Xs clicking into view. / there, she called the shots / make some noise.