Nests [poem] by Laura Eppinger

Being from where we are
being white trash river rat
mechanic’s hands basement second home
and dregs at coffee pot bottom being
fermented feast the links of meat
on church basement long afternoon, or beer
cans for home team home game
means you never stray far, for long.

Being grandmother’s fine china
set, strong as eyes on baby sister
being returned
like long overdue library book, all fines settled
being absolved, far
from incense-cloaked pew
cleansed now of hall pass infraction, of
mall lot renegade days, of shopping
carts stolen, hair pulled,
of last drag in the driveway
means I’ve always known:
Rats make nests, rats build homes.


[Refer: This poem put the editors in mind of Seamus Heaney's poem "Death of a Naturalist." The link will take you to Heaney reading.]

Laura Eppinger graduated from Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA in 2008 with a degree in journalism, and she’s been writing creatively ever since. Her laptop screen got cracked during a year in Cape Town, South Africa,  but it never stopped her from writing. Her publications list lives on Loli on the Shore.

Image by annette

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