After Iowa flood:

New shades of brown.

First shade of brown: dead grass

Brunettes giving up

Lying prone in parks.

Second shade of brown:

Outdoor metals

Prisoners of iron oxide

And empty museums. 

Dark second skins grew and spread

Into scar tissue.

Third shade of brown: the enemy itself-

The Iowa River.

Now the color of

Everything that wasn’t supposed to be there.

A tree lay on its side: roots unable to grapple

Earth aid.

Brown: the color of death.

Smell is alive and well.

So much dankness.  Which sounds like stank.

Being green is too much work.

The sun, so uncaring.

 

by Jennifer MacBain-Stephens

 

Jennifer MacBain-Stephens is an emerging poet who was recently published in Issue #10 of Superstition Review and has poems forthcoming in Emerge Literary Journal , Red Savina Review, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine and The Apeiron Review.

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