Poetic Hill by Karen Lyon

Karen Lyon and Ed McMahon

The Lyon’s Share

After more than 20 years, I am submitting my final column this month. It’s been a grand run, but it’s time for me to retire. I’m pleased to announce that, starting in January, Michelle LaFrance, who teaches writing at George Mason University, will be taking over the Literary Hill, and awardwinning poet Sandra Beasley will be coordinating the Poetic Hill. They are both eminently qualified and eager to continue with the community-minded advocacy for local writers that has guided me all these years.

My eternal gratitude to the Hill Rag for all their support: to Melissa Ashabranner for getting me started and standing by me, to Andrew Lightman for keeping me going, and to Jason Yen and his graphics crew for always making me look good. Thanks to the Hill Rag’s loyal readers and to the hundreds of local writers who have shared their books with me and provided me with such great material. And special thanks to my husband, Ed McManus, who was my photographer in the early days, who listened to more book synopses than any human being should ever have to endure, and who has been and always will be my ballast and my mainstay. Heartfelt thanks to you all.

of a challenge. Whatever the level of difficulty, though, the fun is in the search and, as she writes, in the “unique opportunity to explore [DC] through a refreshing lens.” But if you really get stuck, she invites you to visit secretdcbook.com for tips and help.

JoAnn Hill writes extensively about DC life, food, and her world travels on her blog dcglobejotters.org. Her previous book was “Secret Washington, DC: A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful, and Obscure.” u

THE POETIC HILL

by Karen Lyon

Eric Rozenman came to DC in 1980 as a congressional staffer and worked on or near Capitol Hill for many years. He is now semi-retired as a communications consultant for the Jewish Policy Center. His poems have been published in the Miami-based Yiddish journal “Der Onheib,” as well as in Midstream and the online New English Review. Two previous poems—“Arrivals and Departures—Reagan National” and “Lunch Hour at Union Station” have appeared here. In the poem below, he evokes images and sentiments that will be all too familiar to Hill residents. Rozenman notes that,

over the years, the atmosphere on the Hill has changed—“and not for the better.” In addition to the ubiquitous flags, he recalls “when I first arrived in DC and could drive on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House, not to mention walk into House and Senate office buildings without going through metal detectors.” Rozenman is also the author of a non-poetry book, “From Elvis to Trump, Eyewitness to the Unraveling: Co-Starring Richard Nixon, Andy Warhol, Bill Clinton, The Supremes, and Barack Obama!” www.ericrozenman.com

Flags at Half-Staff

They’re at half-staff again The flags on Capitol Hill Most of them anyway A few of the glassed-in Premium office spaces Haven’t gotten word.

But the sight of them, The flags at half-staff, Has become so frequent I wrack my brains, asking Who is this time?

Former Secretary of State Albright was March Former Senator Hatch (R-Utah) was April So, who’s gone now that it’s May?

We don’t lower flags for those shot over the weekend Who rate two paragraphs each on page B-3 In the Washington Post Metro section Nor the retired CIA agent-turned-school teacher Whose family bought an obituary with a picture A few pages later.

Maybe flags at half-staff this time For those murdered in Buffalo By a boy with a gun and superstitions He caught on the Internet Without a gun seems like you shouldn’t go anywhere Anymore with flags so often at half-staff.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid I think, giving wide sidewalk passage To a shirtless, homeless man elegantly Shadow-boxing and barking curses Like a long-ago professional Now addled and uncared for Perhaps living in one of those tents Scattered across Union Station lawn.

Regardless of all the high-toned talk this town produces I pass another set of half-staff flags Fluttering over patrons at the Dubliner And it turns out they’re lowered not for Buffalo But the one million COVID-19 dead We have so many plagues these days Heart disease, cancer, car crashes, overdoses I pass another homeless man This one under-handing chunks of crumbling curb At parked cars and think Nah, not paranoia; just time to retire And move Somewhere.