Olena Jennings | The Piltdown Review

Olena Jennings

July 1964

July 1964

She holds a flower, listening only to the small petals. They’ve all come outside to see the purple.
Transcendence

Transcendence

No difference between night and day when during sleep the world changes. You repeatedly pull yourself out and the crowd pushes you.
Centerpiece

Centerpiece

The women sit before a turkey, baked for hours, always counting the minutes, tapping feet to a tune.
My House

My House

Let me give you my address so that if you are in the neighborhood you can drive by, see if they’ve repainted.

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    a poem by Robert J. Howe
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