brian rihlmann | North of Oxford

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Howard Beach: Queens, NY by Doug Holder

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/01/12/howard-beach-queens-ny-by-doug-holder/

Leave Meeting by Bruce Whitacre

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/01/12/leave-meeting-by-bruce-e-whitacre/

Two Poems by Byron Beynon

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/03/13/two-poems-by-byron-beynon-2/

A Familiar Street, Unknown by Brian Rihlmann

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/05/13/a-familiar-street-unknown-by-brian-rihlmann/

Two Poems by John Dorroh

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/07/14/two-poems-by-john-dorroh/

Two Poems by Mark Tulin

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/03/13/two-poems-by-mark-tulin/

Two Poems by Linda Lerner

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/03/13/two-poems-by-linda-lerner/

Wild by Paul Ilechko

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/04/11/wild-by-paul-ilechko/

Two Poems by Catherine Zickgraf

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/05/13/two-poems-by-catherine-zickgraf/

Pages Come and Go by Carla Sarett

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2021/07/14/pages-come-and-go-by-carla-sarett/

A Familiar Street, Unknown

Sometime, walk a street

you’ve only driven before,

maybe on your way

back and forth to work.

Overlook nothing—

notice every pothole and sidewalk crack.

Notice people’s yards—

their statues and symbols,

and whether they grow grass or vegetables,

or weeds, or nothing.

And notice the people, too—

do they smile and wave, or at least nod,

or just look away?

Notice how easily the roots

of trees shatter curbs,

driveways, and all our plans.

Notice how easily their flesh

absorbs the rusty spikes of a barbwire fence.

Notice what gathers curbside

and in drainage ditches.

You may find rare flowers

among road grit and broken bottles,

growing from piles of dead seeds.

You may find a still glowing ember,

and something to fan it with.

You may find a memorial

with candles burned down

to shapeless lumps and a child’s note

scrawled in purple crayon—

We miss you Daddy.

Read everything you see,

everything you find on the ground.

Read graffiti and street signs.

Read the chalked messages

of neighborhood children.

Discarded paperbacks and high school essays.

Arrest warrants, medical reports,

missing person flyers.

A gospel tract flapping in the gutter

like a wounded dove.

A crumpled love letter—

unwrap it carefully as a gift

and read the words that failed

to sway a too human heart.

Brian Rihlmann lives and writes in Reno, Nevada. His poetry has appeared in many magazines, including The Rye Whiskey Review, Fearless, Heroin Love Songs, Chiron Review and The Main Street Rag. His latest collection, “Night At My Throat,” (2020) was published by Pony One Dog Press.