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after hope
inspired by paris: a poem
there is no lily of the valley
there is only one trash bag
lifting its wings
aimlessly down the canal
adrift in air seethed in midday smog;
the boats, the cyclists, and here
the eternal man sleeping while the rain
comes expectedly down --
ptkoheia smiling her stoop upon his
moon-sunk eyes, his demurring hood
in the moments before we step above
the broken bridge to retrieve the
vapes, the banter, the yearning of children
to shriek as they cross the street under the
(poor collapse of the sky. your face is waste. our goddess is a mountain and)
each night we run our hands over what is
it exactly we are searchsearchsearching for and
I am beside. myself an engineer in this
lurid design, footprint fossils spitting
carbon the way the thin man in a jogging
suit hacks his cud onto the pavement, stains
like a ghost.
Riley Mayes
Riley Mayes is a full-time student and writer from Portland, Maine. Mayes is interested in explorations of nature and hyperlocal geography in their studies and writing. Mayes' work has been featured in several publications, including Prose Online, BUST Magazine, Garfield Lake Review, Havik Las Bryant Literary Review, Levitate Magazine, and Sudden Denouement Collective. You may read more of Riley Mayes' work on their website, https://rileyrm11.wixsite.com/