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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Deflections of Slanted Light 

 

  

1.         Interval:


 

The sun blazes

                      and I am unhinged—

midday trees, spread-eagled toward heaven.

 

All day, I hold desire calm as the crisp line in your back.

Last night, your body, spilled out on crumpled sheets, rain beat steadily

 

upon the roof, gurgling outside my window onto

the cupped hands of leaves.

 

I wouldn’t call what happened rain or even thunder,

                      our two bodies and the walls full of aftershocks—

 

This morning, I try to make sense of things.

Light invades the sky,

in a wide expanse of pastel, the leftover drizzle of a storm.

 

Summer wine in two empty glasses

rooms full of spilled moonlight, leftover sun

two eyes opening into my reflection,

 

                 the longer you look at me, the more I become




2.            The Inside Room:

 

 

After the chainsaw buzz, after the trees fell,

Rain soaked the earth, wet deluge

Of remorse, turned it to muddy sludge

 

Or worse, a field of absence where what was lost

Mattered less each day.  Only

Inside private thoughts, little lit shrines,

 

Nests nestled amongst branches, bird-

Song leapt to the sky, flitting, skittering

In the daily play of shadows,

 

Deflections of slanted light, patched illuminations

Etching the ground.

And what should we do now?

 

Recite our prayers in the hope

Of some miracle of redemption

Or forgiveness?  Shrug our shoulders and forget,

 

Move on to the next gaudy bauble?

Forgetfulness looms, memory’s

Unwanted balm, the way we carry on

 

Lulled from rage, from indignation, from pain,

Lulled into the rest of our lives,

Our wounds cauterized, covered, hidden

 

From view like lopped branches, lopped

Trees, our own play of light and shade

Removed so that we, too, are fields of absence

 

Even as we move through our days,

Even as we love and play and fight,

Sunlight blinding our eyes.


                              -David Adès and Bob Walicki