Forsythia in February
Rapid, their blooming overnight,
How they remind me another year has turned,
These boughs of yellow stars effulgent
At the feet of fence posts on the shoulders
Of empty highways, resplendent
These firebrands of a life half-remembered.
“My God,” I say to these gold flames golden
Only briefly, “what’s become of you, girl I loved?”
My God, I hear her say back, boy who never said
I love you. What of these harsh winds?
What of this hard dream
Of yet another cold front
Yet another dawn?
[Read a Q&A with Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum about Visiting Hours here.]
Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum, a Nashville native, is the author of Ghost Gear and editor of Apocalypse Now: Poems & Prose from the End of Days. He’s the acquisitions editor for Upper Rubber Boot Books and the founder and editor of PoemoftheWeek.com and the Floodgate Poetry Series.
Tagged: 2020 Southern Festival of Books, Poetry
