The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review
littlereview

Poem for Sunday and Warming Great Falls


A Small Hot Town
By Collier Nogues

The river its balm.
I spend a lot of time

waiting in the car,
nail file dust sifting
onto the gearshift.

Two corner stores gone
and a handle of gin
under the Walk sign.

The gin drinker is
uncertain he's here.
He's in the war.

Wind blows a hat
past the court's lawn,
a balloon

from its gravesite tie.
The graveyard is
the town's high hill.

Salty, sure, and a thrill,
at home in the hot sun
with not much on.

Reaching for eggs
in the dry house
of hens, or reaching

into a slaughtered hen,
plucking her clean--
close-mouthed,

I wouldn't say
anything bad
about anybody.

Then I grew
into my ugly,
said plenty,

dropping quarters
at the coin laundry.
The sound of water

turning over water
was a comfort,
the sound of someone

else's things.
There's only one
wing in our hospital.

It's sufficient.
So is the one road
out of the county.

You can drive
your whole life
into its macadam,

no matter. June
crosses crosswalks
in the noon air,

greasing gears
so gently
I can feel it

in my ears, unrelenting,
busy as an army
in its foxholes.

--------

Cheryl left my house last week with some kind of horrible winter illness, which unfortunately I now seem to be getting -- my throat has been hurting all day. I have consumed enough zinc to make my tongue fall off (not to mention to knock off my digestion) so I am hoping to be able to skip the coughing-my-lungs-out phase. (A good friend in Baltimore is having even worse health issues and may need surgery, so vibes for her are appreciated.)

Since I was feeling crappy and everyone else wanted to catch up on sleep, we had a low-key day. After younger son got back from track practice, we had lunch while watching the original Cosmos which NatGeo was marathoning all afternoon; then we went to Great Falls, where some ducks and even a turtle were also enjoying the sun. We had brunch food for dinner (waffles, eggs, etc.) and watched some basketball, then a Paul McCartney concert on PBS.













</center>

Happy birthday to my mom! Don't forget to turn your clocks if you're in the U.S.!
Subscribe

  • Greetings from the Canal

    It rained early in the morning on Friday and again in the afternoon -- the first thunderstorm of the season, which displeased the kittens so much…

  • Poem for Friday and Canal Thursday

    Letter Beginning with Two Lines by Czesław Miłosz By Matthew Olzmann You whom I could not save, Listen to me. Can we agree Kevlar backpacks…

  • Poem for Thursday and McCrillis Flowers

    A Violin at Dusk By Lizette Woodworth Reese Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things, That pack the day with bluster and with fret. For here…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments