I am in a hotel lobby in Atlanta examining an artificial Christmas tree, its white-powdered pine needles dotted with plastic cardinals. The one near the top looks to the east, its long scarlet tail-feather pointing the other direction. This one in the middle looks straight at me, wings spread wide like a false poinsettia, asking what do you want from me? The windows darken and the streets are wet with rain. Sixty thousand miles of arteries and veins have not faltered. The red river still flows inside me. The steel muscle of traffic stops and starts, converging at the freeway’s exit.

Mark Robinson earned his MFA from Lindenwood University and studied English Literature at the University of Iowa. His poems have appeared in Faultline Journal, River! River!, Exterminating Angel Press, Stillwater Review, Dunes Review, Naugatuck River Review, Levee Magazine and Bending Genres, among others. He was a semi-finalist for Crab Creek Review 2020 poetry contest, and his chapbook Just Last Days was published in January 2020. Mark currently lives in West Des Moines, IA. Twitter: @MarkRobPoet