Ephemeral and Not

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

In sinking towns like Titusville the sun

Is setting always.  Little shopping strips

Thrown up when you were just a kid are done,

Dilapidated.  Shopping malls are tips,

Closed down.  The fast food places come and go

Like garish dawns.  The school you went to stares

With stupid windows.  Wrecking balls will know

It.  Wednesday evening meetings, prayers, prayers, prayers,

Can’t save it.  Or some other church will buy

It.  Other doctrines will be taught.  The God

Of Sabbaths soon will have to wink his eye

And let some Sunday teachers practice fraud.

  The seaweed, though, won’t go away.  Its stench

    Will still make Titusville lagoon shores blench.

~ Phillip Whidden