Poem: Old Road Sign

Old Road Sign

The sere severed plywood sign painted a modest white
was nailed once to spindly posts among the water oaks.
Now by accident it dangles, peeling and warped.
Underbrush too dense perhaps to let the fool board fall.
The paint is blanched so that it fairly imitates the mists
oft seen in bayous chockablock with oaks and black gums
and strands of gray-green moss on cypress limbs,
but five large letters—grim reminders of ill will—
still glare as bright as the morning when the prophet shoved
cheap pine posts down in the weedy grass and muck.
Broad feverish strokes in a harsh shade of red,
they’re there for homeless ducks and long-haul truckers—grunts,
dogsbodies, quacks—to read and contemplate…REPEN.
While stenciled on the far edge of the broken sign,
the faded letters barely legible…JESU.

Image: Daniele Idini