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This edition of Echo is pleased to feature poet, Connie Carmichael.  Born on the Ohio River in a small town that was surrounded by potteries and steel mills, she says that the beautiful hills and flowing river of her childhood were fertile ground for her artistic side.  Carmichael has written poetry for as long as she can remember.  Currently she lives in Fort Myers, Florida, and hopes to soon find a publisher for a collection of her poetry.  Ms. Carmichael can be reached at:
redwing27@earthlink.net .

Our Lady Of The Abandoned Dairy Queen

I found her at a gas station in southern Georgia
Our lady of the abandoned Dairy Queen
Shaking her fist at a circle of crows
And cursing the tattered remains of a styrofoam cup
She has the resigned and comfortably haunted look
Of paper scraps and cement
Black rubber boots stuffed with pages of Reader's Digest
And a closely guarded bag of loose tobacco
Hanging from a string around her neck
The quality of mercy is now coffee and a cigarette
I wish that she could save me
But I am halfway to Ohio now
And our lady of the abandoned Dairy Queen
Sinks like a rock in the rear view mirror


Danny Dies At The Dish Factory

He got everyday here
Grinding in his skin
Blue smoke,
Washed out bricks
And a sawdust glint in his eye
The Methodists shake his hand on Sunday
Throw him to the dogs on Monday
Mamma got to have that check
He fall against the morning sky
Iced heart shatters piles of dust and oil
Giant fans hum a country western tune
He slide away on a desperate kiss
He thinks
Chicken salad and apples
He sees
Brown paper bag
     and hard toed shoes

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