The Orchard

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Scott Ruescher

The Orchard


      When I happen upon Elvis’s ubiquitous image
      In unexpected places, if it’s depicted in the active midst
      Of a lip-curling twist on stage or a full-throated shout
      On a life-sized piñata in front of a bodega
      In the capital of Guatemala, say, on a scarecrow in a garden
      On a back-country road in Maine in the White Mountains
      Near the Chatham Valley border with the state
      Of New Hampshire, or on a chipped plaster bust
      Overlooking a canal from an Amsterdam window—
      Or if I hear his voice escaping from strange places
      Made familiar by his presence, from the . . .
      . . . . . . .

      Able Muse Write Prize for Poetry, 2017 ▪ Finalist

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