POETRY
Feature Poet: Ren Alessandra
Power Lines From the power lines down Memory Lane, I recall all the women I have been The houses look so different from up here. Soaring, I reflect on the way these rooftops seem from the street. How perspective, is a kind of hindsight. How time has done its best with everything that it had. How I did my best, with all I knew I had, at the time. My story begins each day when I wake, so many times, in so many beds, on couches, on floors, next to men I thought I loved, who I swear in moments loved me. From the power lines, I watch flowers shiver in their beds wine bottles reflect the sun, my cat, wandering all of these houses look the same as I remember, but aren’t the same as I remember, nothing is. These houses I see, are doorways into the past versions of the woman I am yet to be.
06 | AUTUMN 2020 northerly
