POETRY
Virginia Cronk's poetry spans decades of experiences.
A Conch Dog and Her Pals
Published in Only In Key West, The Key West Writers Guild Anthology, 2025
Busch Row
Busch Row they’re called.
Sitting, drinking cold dollar beer from the can.
You work hard, drink hard to earn a stool at this bar.
Easy lives don’t bring you here.
They drink cold dollar beer from the can,
Talk about love, intrigue, despair.
Easy lives don’t bring you here.
Not to Key West, not to this bar.
Talk about love, intrigue, despair.
Architect? Once, but now she’s a roofer.
If she’s on this island, in this bar
Wealthy parents won’t back her schemes.
Architect once, but now she’s a roofer.
You come here to hide or to seek.
Wealthy Parents won’t back her schemes.
The fishing guide was a surgeon.
You come here to be free, to hide or to seek.
Him with the Maine drawl? Squealed on his boss.
The fishing guide was a surgeon.
That house painter had gallery one-man shows.
Him with the Maine drawl who squealed on his boss?
They torched his trawler late one night.
That fishing guide the surgeon, can’t face his peers.
One man left Miami when his wife got religion.
They torched his trawler late one night.
Now he carries his library of charts from boat to boat.
One man left Miami when his wife got religion.
Some hide from a hit man, some from success.
He carries his library of charts from boat to boat.
An old man with maps of the waters off Maine.
Some hide from a hit man, some from success.
The handyman was the drummer for a famous rock band.
Afternoon. Three o’clock and they’re here
Drinking cold dollar beer from a can.
Bragging of wounds, flaunting despair.
Busch Row they’re called.
Published in: Only In Key West, The Key West Writers' Guild Anthology, 2026