Karen Friedland: Gone

is that long-shuttered, freaky, pansexual nightclub 

we danced in, to ’80s music – 

Man Ray, it was called. 

Gone is the old grove of green trees 

glowing yellow with lichen 

we walked through, my dog and I, 

before it was shorn off and plowed under 

and turned into houses. 

Gone is the once-young, dancing body I had, 

grown withered and bony, pot-bellied and pained, 

although sometimes it dreams that it’s young, still.

Copyright 2019 Karen Friedland

Karen Friedland’s Places That Are Gone is available from Nixes Mate Books.