Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Tuesday poem #389 : Bill Carty : HENS

Third time this week
on I-5 behind the same
maniac who spelled
HENS upside-down
and backward
on his vanity plate:

Two days running
I’ve nearly backed
from my driveway
into the same scooter,
its driver hunched
like a leather-backed
turtle in white helmet.

Dear strangers
who know me
better than anyone—
where do you keep
your secret clocks?

Bill Carty is the author of Huge Cloudy (Octopus Books). He has received poetry fellowships from the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Artist Trust, Hugo House, and Jack Straw. He was awarded the Emily Dickinson Award from the Poetry Society of America, and his poems have recently appeared in the jubilat, Denver Quarterly, Paperbag, and other journals. Originally from coastal Maine, Bill now lives in Seattle, where he is Senior Editor at Poetry Northwest. He teaches at the Hugo House, the UW Robinson Center for Young Scholars, and Edmonds College. www.billcarty.com

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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