The Long Couch in Memphis
by Anastasia Clark

When I was twenty
I visited Elvis- or should I say
The estate of Elvis

They call it Graceland
And it was quite the land

Of Cadillacs and opulence
And bright sequin costumes

Did you know it is a cemetery?

And there was a wall of
Televisions- and a room of
Jungle animals, shag rugs

And rooms we couldn’t see

But what intrigued me most
Was certainly the long couch

The longest I had ever seen

They said it was custom-made
And it must have been

But now it was empty-
Guarded by velvet ropes
And imaginary horsemen

Standing, in imaginary uniforms
At the far end
Of the long, jilted room.

Copyright 2024 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.