It hasn’t rained for weeks.
The color arcs have faded
and the factories have gone quiet.
black rag shadows drag the ground
The green blades of day have dulled
into yellow needles and frostweed.
The void of eastern Texas.
No sound carries off the misplaced cobblestone.
A young woman stares out the window
of a mint-green home.
I’m walking across a yard
of fallen sheaves and inflorescence.
An agitation of silence is all she’ll ever know.
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee. Writing for six years, his work has appeared in more than a thousand publications including The Louisiana Review, Bluestem, Emrys Journal, Sierra Nevada Review, Roanoke Review, The Red Cedar Review and The William and Mary Review. He has poems forthcoming in Hawai’i Review, Sugar House Review, Plainsongs, Free State Review and Texas Review.