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If My Home Were an Album, Would You Listen? RSS

If My Home Were an Album, Would You Listen?

30 April, 2020: If My Home Were an Album, Would You Listen?

Read a Poem

If My Home Were an Album, Would You Listen?

by Regis Louis Coustillac

Stamp Ohio into vinyl.
Set the needle on its hilly grooves
until music moves through the plains.
Let the record rust until the whole state
feels an itch beneath its dusty towns.
Spin, spin, skip, scratch.
Heroin in baby bottles.
That’s the title track,
the radio single to which the nation
will sing along.
Run the anthem back.
Let them sing Ohio, Ohio
until the needle snaps,
or they lull themselves to sleep.
They dream of corn.
They dream of rust.
They spin, spin, dream, scratch
against the dirty needle
that traces along Ohio
like a turntable.
There are other tracks
on the B side of this album.
Songs of rivers and soil
and the fertile crescent of the West,
and bicycles that flew like Icarus,
but the radio won’t play those,
because the country wants to spin
and skip and scratch the shared itch
that buried itself
beneath the nation’s skin
like the bodies
of the Hopewell people
that tucked themselves
beneath the Earth
in great mounds,
in the mouth of some serpent
that will swallow us all.
“If My Home Were An Album, Would You Listen?” by Regis Coustillac from Brainchild Magazine, 2018. Used by permission of the author.
Regis Louis Coustillac was raised in Mentor, Ohio and currently lives in Cleveland. He attended Kent State University where he worked for three years as a teaching artist at the Wick Poetry Center, facilitating poetry workshops for community members in the Northeast Ohio area. His work is a reflection of the Midwest in both voice and visage. His poems have appeared in Gordon Square Review, Brainchild Magazine and Isacoustic. You can find him on twitter @Reg_Is_Louis.

Write a Poem

Write a poem of 4-line stanzas in which you list and describe many things you forgive yourself or someone else for, at least two items of forgiveness in each stanza. The stanzas may be rhymed or unrhymed.

Cathy Barber
Great poem to end the month with, Regis.
4/30/2020 1:21:28 PM

Carol Laursen
I forgive you, pen in hand
above a blank page, frozen,
mute. Images crowd the mind,
with none named, the moment

passes. Frozen above a blank page,
images crowd the mind, forgiven.
April has come and gone with
nothing shared, and yet

an inner stirring shifts the sand
cradling the world. A promise to
post this final day forgives the muteness
of the prior twenty-nine.
4/30/2020 10:40:53 AM

READ + WRITE: 30 Days of Poetry is a collaboration between Cuyahoga County Public Library and poet Diane Kendig. Our thanks go to Diane and the poets of Northeast Ohio who allowed us to share their poetry.