Made for TV

by KATHLEEN KIRK

Hollywood moves things around to tell its own story its own way. All we can do is forgive. Some clichés are made for tv. The neighbor’s orange hunting vest hangs on the deck, drying in the pale morning light. Eager dark cells are taken from the left breast of my friend. Yesterday the wind moved a mountain of leaves from the front yard of the empty house next door to all our yards. The neighbor’s orange hunting vest hangs like a neon angel’s wing in the pink morning. All the sweet gum and tulip poplar leaves go yellow and bright with the sun. Wind admonishes the flattened mountain. All we can do is forgive Hollywood. Dark stitching repairs an orange pocket. Blue sky asserts itself. The children awake and take target practice against a plywood board. Some clichés are made for tv. My friend awaits the next word.

KATHLEEN KIRK is the author of four poetry chapbooks, most recently Nocturnes (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2012), and is the poetry editor for Escape Into Life. Her work appears in The Greensboro Review, Nimrod, Oklahoma Review, Menacing Hedge, and the Dead Mule School of Southern Literature.