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Refuse & The Moment

poems by M.R. Williamson


Plastic bottles marooned
in roots
wet with muck
and other stuff
currents push past
what once was
Rubber pieces cover
dirty molded cups
and such,
bobbing blue in their own small pool
trapped yet mobile—
steady as she goes,

The Moment

The verdant, green grass.
Mow patterns perfectly aligned—
dark then light
dark then light.
That’s how things are.
That’s what I’ll remember.
With cicadas singing their cacophonous song.

Standing in that grass, sweat trickling down our backs
on a scorching June day.
And the lake water—lapping at the red clay;
A subtle wake.
Making forever promises to each other in your presence.

You and I laid on the dock, fans blowing.
Pages turning.
Drinks condensing.
Music playing.
Ladies splashing below.

The four of us, by the fire.
Smoke creating a gray curtain
pulled back by the night—
an inky, pin-pricked roof.

Standing in the kitchen,

coming in one-by-one—sometimes pairs—
toting bags fluffed with colored paper
and steaming bowls of salty Southern-somethings.
Twangs of greeting.
Sweet hospitality.

And finally:
Outside, sitting,
clicking glasses,
faces tipped toward the sun.
How good it feels, you said.
Yes, I agree.
We drank it in together, the moment.
The light.
The early spring warmth.

And then you were gone.


M.R. Williamson was born in Homestead, Florida, and spent her childhood in Miami. As she approached her teen years, she moved to North Georgia, where she has lived ever since. She is a vintage book collage artist and art educator, as well as a writer. “South Florida and North Georgia, despite both being in the South, are very different places, and the juxtaposition of the two has had a profound effect on the way I process life,” she says. “I feel as though I am an ‘inside outsider,’ seemingly assimilated to life in the Deep South, while having the sense that I am an observer in a strange land. It is that somewhat out-of-place feeling that enables me to create in a particularly reverent way.” Find her on Facebook and Instagram.

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  • Howard Reeves / April 18, 2020

    Megan’s poems create a collage of Southern life, wonderfully written from the heart.