by Flossie Hedges
that woman I met at the arboretum was right
blue jays are the stepdads of the bird world
make the sounds of father hawk, right
enough to secure the space in the hall closet
fix his plates first, leaving crusted
dishes on the side table with one bad leg
lay on the couch with his work boots on,
site dust tracked all over the floor
that woman opened the front door to his smug
flat-top blade-thin beard cut low Kentucky jersey
she saw him here and she just knew
he’s had to adapt to get by and he loves us kids
Flossie Hedges is a writer, visual artist, and teacher living in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. She holds MAs from University of Louisville and University of Pittsburgh, and she works at a small college that serves the Appalachian region. Her recent work has been published in EcoTheo Review and Fruitslice.