By Eric Greinke

Originally published in So It Goes


Her parents named her Zora,
meaning ‘light of dawn.’
They lived in a drafty wooden shack
on the outskirts of a burned out town.
All the best houses in Serbia
were constructed of concrete.
Zora always dreamed of living
in a concrete home of her own.
When she fled to America
she became a live-in nanny
for a rich man who sold time-shares.
She cared for his four children
during the hot Louisiana days
& spent her nights in a small room
in his massive stone mansion.
She saved her money every week,
still dreaming that she’d erect
her house of solid cement.
As the days solidified into years,
the house became more real
in her recurrent dreams,
but before she could build it
in the whirlpool of the real world,
she died of a massive heart attack.
They put her into a concrete vault,
where her light could not get out.


Eric Greinke has two new Presa Press books scheduled for 2016, Poets In Review (a collection of forty-six reviews written from 1972 to the present) and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems with Glenna Luschei. Recent work has appeared in the Aurorean, Delaware Poetry Review, Forge, Gargoyle, Home Planet News, Ibbetson Street, Main St. Rag, Poem, The Pedestal, So It Goes, Solo Novo and as a fine art broadside by Adastra Press. His poetry has found a large international audience.

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