Cold River Blues by Paul Ilechko

On the wiry blue grass by the cold blue river,
with antique cheese and second-hand wine,
my mistress sits and bares herself to the sun.

As blue as a cheese that is rotten to its core.
As cold as the temperament of a salvaged
steel blade. All is river-worked, subtle and keen.

Water takes metal, reduces it to ferrous dolor.
Rusted plates express an accidental artistry
for those who have the eyes to see. For those

who prize the random, the tainted, the blemished.
Taking subtlety where you find it. Take your
evening stroll beneath the crumbling sky, and believe.

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Paul Ilechko was born in England but has lived much of his life in the USA. He currently lives in Lambertville, NJ with his girlfriend and a cat. Paul has had poetry published and/or accepted recently by Third Wednesday, Sick Lit Magazine, Gloom Cupboard, MockingHeart Review and Slag Review, among others.

Photo credit: Dirk Dreyer 


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