The Place We Call Home 
poetry by David S. Higdon

Is full-up on empty factories, 
and friendly people never sit 
on front porches anymore 

to wave as I pass by. I grow 
grayer and find it harder 
to avoid the city, my bones raw 

from the draw of it, I climb 
like a slow tick up the long leg 
of interstate to travel back 

home. They never tell you 
at forty-seven you’ll still feel 
twenty-two and still repeat 

the same mistakes, except those 
that raised you and still know 
you—tarnished, broken, but true.

The road home is never straight,
but patches of goldenrod burst
like fireworks, they still wave 
as I pass them by.

David S. Higdon is a writer from the Western Coal Field region of Kentucky. One of his poems is included in Once a City Said: An Anthology of Louisville Poets (Sarabande Books, 2023). He was the 2021 winner of The Kentucky State Poetry Society's Grand Prix Prize and his work has been published in Southword: New International Writing, Appalachian Review, Exposition Review, and others. He lives with his family in Louisville, Kentucky.

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