By Jonathan Greenhause

I'm not thinking of Pennsylvania,   but it comes anyway,
popping up in the distance once I've travelled far enough,

but it could just as easily be   Sri Lanka/Mozambique/Argentina;
   if you let yourself go,   there's no telling where you'll end up;
      there's no telling   what mountain will guide you
				            or what ocean will drown you.

So Pennsylvania grabs hold of my legs   & shakes my bones
   'til I'm screaming Susquehanna & Allegheny;
& I'm kidnapped   by Hershey Park   & the Liberty Bell
				      & by the Little League World Series.

I feel as if possessed   by an ad from PA's Tourism Board,
   but this could just as easily be
my own apartment,   the 4 blank walls of my bedroom,   the toilet
									            that doesn't flush,
   a living room ceiling
    leaking to the rhythm   of Pachelbel's Canon in D;

it could be   the local supermarket
   or my office job
or the morning traffic jam   or the moment of my death
					         in some ICU   I never saw myself in;

   but instead   it's Pennsylvania;
instead,   it's a decision to leave it all behind,   irrevocably,   at least
										       for a few days,

heading straight for nowhere   & into the leafy embrace
   of some woods I've never heard of before.
I'm outside of myself   as others   & myself know me,

& I take a left   by a stone with no name,   then a right
   at a tree that looks like all the rest;
then   I'm as lost as I've ever been,   which is to say:   Here I am.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

About Jonathan Greenhause

Winner of Prism Review’s 2012-2013 Poetry Prize and finalist in the 2013 Gearhart Poetry Contest from The Southeast Review, Jonathan Greenhause has received two Pushcart nominations and is the author of the chapbook Sebastian’s Relativity (Anobium Books, 2011). His poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in The Great American Poetry Show, The Malahat Review (CAN), Miramar Poetry Journal, Neon (UK), New Millennium Writings, and The Next Review (UK), among others. He and his wife are being raised by their one-year-old, Benjamin Seneca.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>


  • In The Latest Issue

  • Browse by Genre

  • Archives

    open all | close all