Two Blocks Down

You remember the name was Jensen. She seemed old
always alone inside, face pasted gray to the window,
and mail never came. Two blocks down the Grubskis
went insane. George played rotten trombone
Easter when they flew the flag. Wild roses
remind you the roads were gravel and vacant lots
the rule. Poverty was real, wallet and spirit,
and each day slow as church. You remember threadbare
church groups on the corner, howling their faith
at stars, and violent Holy Rollers
renting that barn for their annual violent sing
and the barn burned down when you came back from war.
Richard Hugo, from “What Thou Lovest Well Remains American”

Seeds, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk
Seeds, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk
Lodge, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk
Lodge, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk
Number Four, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk
Number Four, Yreka, CA © C. Bronsk