New poems by our contributors CALLY CONAN-DAVIES and PETER JAY SHIPPY
At the Meringo Hotel
There’s nothing to leave at the door.
There is no door.
No writing on the wall.
Where are the walls?
No need to raise the roof.
The lack of roof proves the sun and moon,
and the cliff edge of a continent
is not so steep you can’t head your horse down it.
We hung, chiefly, with actresses who read only
the highlighted sections of scripts, we understood,
better not to become too involved in narratives
that might not love us, we derived great pleasure
For this month’s poetry feature, we are publishing a collection of seven new poems by four The Common contributors.
Lucas had to work late, or else.
When he left the office
The stars were open
And the bars were closing.
Lucas took one of those trips
That Americans of a certain rage
Must take—to find themselves. In Utah
Lucas found himself marooned
In the wilderness
How can the one-man band disband?
They say scads of folks cried at his
Scattering
When he was 12, he was voted
Most likely to become Satan’s spawn
By the other sixth graders at Gesù
Catholic School in Northy. Lucas
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