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Not Even Paint Deep

Wednesday Prose Poem: through the city

Photo by Florian Olivo on Unsplash

An Air National Guard C-130 practices overhead. The planes belies a city in a coma. Empty, boarded up buildings, dying mall: this town is dying. Human population hemorrhages out of the city, out of the state, down main arteries to other, alive, areas.

Vacant buildings stand on. Some stubborn humans remain. The city is somehow still home…




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Rhonda Marrone

Rhonda Marrone

Poetry and Essay Writer. Be Open Editor. Lover of all things nature. You can most likely find me sitting under a tree ,watching birds, writing poems.

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