top of page

"Passing Down" By Gayle Ledbetter Newby

  • Dec 7, 2019
  • 1 min read

Hits me in the face--

fist pounding rock,

black, fading statue,

waving Southern flag,

See,

my ancestors fought at Shiloh,

Chickamauga, Vicksburg. Buried

flesh at Easton, memoried countless

squares.

I know how we got here;

But, I wonder how we leave.

How we exit…….

this grinding, weeping place?



Gayle Ledbetter Newby has worked as a teacher, librarian, and as a social worker.  She has been published in decomP, Gravel, the Hiram Poetry Review, Literary Orphans, The Santa Fe Literary Journal and others.  Her chapbook "Once Appointed" ( Plan B Press) is due out this fall.  Gayle divides her time between Arkansas and Mississippi.


Recent Posts

See All
"A Love Story" by Natalie Marino

While on an evening walk, we see two dogs mating in an abandoned lot full of tall grass. Holding your hand in mine I look up at the moon looking like a coin caught between two cypress trees. I wonder

 
 
"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see there’s a small duck i’ve been waiting for. i tell the duck my name, who i am. it probably doesn’t remember, but that’s fine. i remind myself that when you find an

 
 
"pit hymnal" by Klara Pokrzywa

Star of this soreness I laugh myself awake, sling deep into the heave. Straight out of dirt road walking and at capacity—this being the back-alley way; the heartbreak; the running away constantly. Int

 
 
bottom of page