August in Ohio

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August in Ohio

Deafened by cicadas,
I spend my summer
in the vibrant woods
south of Lytle Creek.

The train tracks beckon
from the other side.
There’s a penny in my pocket
that needs to be smeared
across the iron.

After staying out past twilight,
I lie in bed, windows open,
hoping to hear the steam whistle,

like the howl of a wolf
alone in the night.

 

(Another poem which was started during the Germination Workshop two weeks ago whose prompt I reprised this morning.)

 

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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6 Responses to August in Ohio

  1. JeanMarie says:

    beautiful metaphor!

  2. Lisa Tomey says:

    I can hear it. Reminds me of my younger life.

  3. writenaked says:

    There is so much I love about this! What stands out the most is the ‘o’ repetition in open, hoping, howl, alone. Makes it feel like the poem is moaning/howling too!

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