Local Outsiders

we are the pariahs of the parish

the outcasts, the unfit
we commune Saturday nights

in taverns of the lowest rank
drunk, wasted to numb
working class exhaustion
before next day’s ritual
read red editions
rejuvenate in that fiesta
the only carnivalesque
surviving in town
we laugh we fart
not mincing words
“parish the par rich”
accents of difference
no deference to identity police
berated with the berettas
of parish conformity
aging in libraries
boiling in social rage
in public display
dripping stains on the name
of the good ethnic
rejected by the p-a-r-i-s-h
where cultural critique
a rotten radish

parts of local history
within the gaze of the parish
outside of its purview
that’s who we are
pubs, poetry clubs
publications we edited
unions, dreams, feelings
from parish archives excised
almost always in silence 
the reason of my worry
I do not see this story
in ink to sign it with a tear
I lend an ear its lore to hear
in popular memory we fade
I fear perishing
before leaving a trace
I better join the writing race
the immigrant local outsiders
to grant a voice of all genders.

August 9, 2025