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The Zero Lot Line
by L.B. Sedlacek

This is not a house on wheels like Noah’s
ark, a turtle’s back, or a
plastic bag slung over the shoulder.

It is a wide dirt lot of red mud clay
and flattened memories, crushed mementos,
bull dozed keepsakes. A couple of

metal snakes lie curled up in a
ball their lungs choked by the day.
The house was old. They moved

it two miles away on a hill with
no view except of another hill
eaten alive by kudzu in summer

and spring, drowned in dead brown
grass in fall and winter. This
is not a house on wheels even

though I saw it creeping along
the street yesterday in the evening sun.


LB Sedlacek's poems have appeared in Circle Magazine, sidereality, Doggerel, Blue Collar Review, and HazMat Review.

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