Sunday, September 11, 2011



Amazing the light a magnolia tree can love, 
And then set free
Taken back by such clumsiness of catch and release
As if to say, isn’t it always the heart that wants too little.
These are the smells we get right before the fire,
The ones we place faith in,
The ones we think of when it rains.

She still works in those clothes, you know
You tell yourself that by now you remember so little,
She must have changed, maybe, even
It didn’t happen.
The way when afforded the opportunity to jump from planes
In our mind, it plays back like a video
Something only slightly real.

Responsible, as if life depended on it
And so, you don’t speak like you used to
You don’t run, or shout, that maybe all of it boils down to
When your kid cries that the dog didn’t come home.
But luckily, today, you found time to read Eudora Welty
She was her favorite, 
When you look up at the space in the sky between heartache and joy
You remember framed pictures
The kind kept quiet beneath the lid of a shoe box
Laying still, static unlike memory or grace.

Alex James King

You can follow Alex on twitter at @ideaofthewest

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