Wildfires east and west.
That acrid tang: desperation
of the Roman army
at Cannae.
Dead grackle on the road,
dead robin in the garden.
Our polarities reverse
and the smoke descends.
Suddenly we’re walking
through the clouds.
Then, flying.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
an
orientation toward evening
okay
the sun is going down first
golden
purples of snow the late
stage
for being this end of storm
says
one way to be is you two
and
a baby and an apartment
and
in the afternoon you go out
all
together I mean
it’s
possible to move through time
and
space together and money’s
adjacency
to this
incidental
but not transcendent
so
a child does not know
at
some point what it is
so
the body’s organic
life
as well walking without
money
the sky does glow
blue
and deep and bright
where
clouds part after sunset
going
back inside money
does
buy this place
of
rest and warmth
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
Inside
you remains the one-two
march,
the full, the fullest
sentence,
when the judge says
You,
behold what’s left here
on
the mediation table,
Here
the knife, the rabbit.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
