A
tall steel wall blurs
the
roar of transports
sear
of sirens hustling
crushed
bodies. Here
in
shadow, south-sunk sun
spears
through rusted holes
in
the grey corrugation
blazes miniatures
blazes miniatures
of
itself on tree, fence,
wall.
Small suns
flash
black
when
a vehicle passes.
*
Leaves
blind me
with
their dying
in
the dying light.
Even
the hackberry
with
its stubborn cling
of
shrivelled brown
emits
a coppery lustre
in
the low sun
of
the day’s
and
the year’s
afternoon.
*
Drenched
in gold, sun
moves
south for winter
returns
on occasion
for
visits begrudged
and
brief.
Jean
Van Loon’s [photo credit: Pearl Pirie] first poetry collection Building on River (Cormorant Books,
2018) was a finalist for the Ottawa Book Prize. Her stories, poems, and reviews
have appeared in literary magazines in the US and Canada and in Journey Prize Stories. Facebook @Jean Van Loon; Twitter @JeanVanloon.
the
Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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