Paul Ilechko
—
Leaving the Palm Trees Behind
Palm trees grow tall
despite the drought
old women move their chairs
from place to place as they seek
what little shade is cast
every day is different
to the next
as the sun at noon
writes its figure eight across a year
the houses near the highway
are shuttered now
in this town of loneliness
and silence
there used to be children here
but few remain
their parents have moved elsewhere
packing their lives into the backs of trucks
and driving forever west
driving to places
where the weather is cold at night
and people have learned to respect
the differences in each other
where the rain comes rarely
but when it does it pours
incessantly
for days on end
flooding the streets with brand new rivers
I will be your river
says the serious boy
washing away your sins
I will be your stream
replies the laughing girl
soak in me until you find peace
and then return.
Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, Atlanta Review, Permafrost, and Free State Review. His book Fragmentation and Volta was published in 2025 by Gnashing Teeth Publishing. He reads for Marrow Magazine.
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