by George Freek

  1. Three evenings, with long
  2. afternoons and a way
  3. of forgetting words,
  4. which, perhaps, should
  5. never be heard.
  6. But the thoughts, yes,
  7. I remember those & a drink
  8. called something pink.
  9. At its bottom, tomorrow
  10. stretched and curled
  11. like a cat, toying with
  12. a lazy afternoon.
  13. The shades were blue,
  14. the roof pinged
  15. and when you
  16. touched your ear-ring,
  17. it rained. I think
  18. the days were too long.
  19. And there were
  20. other people there.
  21. Something was always wrong.
Packingtown Review – Vol.12, Fall 2019

George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, IL. His poetry has recently appeared in Off Course; The Ottawa Review of the Arts; Carcinogenic Poetry; Limestone Journal; and The Sentinel Literature Quarterly. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc.; Lazy Bee Scripts; and Off The Wall Plays.

  1. George Freek
    Winter Is Now Upon Mepoetry