October Afternoon


5″ x 7″ cherry wood block print on Somerset
with Graphic Chemical bone-black ink.

October afternoon, and still I wait

For you to re-appear. “It isn’t fair.”

You told me. “Why am I the only one

To have to suffer?” Silently, I want

Exploding stars, and black volcanic ash

To cover up the world. Instead I get

The northern lights and melancholy whales,

Spring flowers growing in the cracked-clay dirt,

And ruby-throated hummingbirds, and bees.

Whatever happened? In a thoughtless world

The rainbows are supposed to all turn grey

While scorpions of frightful size attack.

Guitars and salsa music shouldn’t play,

Are inappropriate unless they’re played

With broken strings.

But nothing, nothing’s changed.

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