If something is missing, don’t mention it,

If something is missing, don’t mention it, by Angie Macri husband, parent, job, mind, limb, businesses downtown, the lots where sidewalks led to deadends where nice old houses once had been. One hot night, two girls walked down one, then turned to look at the street as it must have been seen from the porch back then. Oh we shouldn’t do this, the older said, it feels strange, and so they didn’t again. Streetlights, headlights caught in the pebbles in the concrete like lights in animals’ eyes, in their eyes as they walked home. Permissible: to speak of rain so long gone fields burned where they stood around the town. Because all knew, rain would return, for sure, sooner or later. Poetry Home Art by