Lawrence Eby
From Flight of August
27.
The first February snow
light
on the eaves, our
sliding glass door
needs sealant
beneath the boarded up
the empty propane tank in the back
yard o−rings dryworn rot and we’ve buried
those needing to be buried, we’ve
scavenged toward Spring.
Stay up in shifts, all waking to any lights
round the cul−
de−sac. This space is ours
as long as we don’t lose footing, if we don’t
lose to this frozen sea.
29.
Banquet halls with the place−settings
still ripe, the white
tablecloths with a coat of old
In here, son.
In here.
There’s a cupboard of cans.
Don’t fidget with the napkins.
The boy polishes and pockets
a fork, a spoon, the white cloth
napkin in his shirt pocket now.
Hail beats the roof, heavy wind
tweaks the walls and for once
there’s no rush to keep
moving.
Eat.
Lawrence Eby writes from Southern California. His first book, Flight of August, won the 2013 Louise Bogen Award and is forthcoming from Trio House Press in the Spring of 2014. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Passages North, Arroyo Literary Review, The Superstition Review, as well as others. He is the founder of Orange Monkey Publishing, a small poetry press, and is Poetry Editor for Ghost Town, California State University, San Bernardino’s national literary magazine. He also volunteers time on the Inlandia Board of Publications and is a founding member of PoetrIE, a writing collective in California’s Inland Empire.
Return to July 2013 Edition
27.
The first February snow
light
on the eaves, our
sliding glass door
needs sealant
beneath the boarded up
the empty propane tank in the back
yard o−rings dryworn rot and we’ve buried
those needing to be buried, we’ve
scavenged toward Spring.
Stay up in shifts, all waking to any lights
round the cul−
de−sac. This space is ours
as long as we don’t lose footing, if we don’t
lose to this frozen sea.
29.
Banquet halls with the place−settings
still ripe, the white
tablecloths with a coat of old
In here, son.
In here.
There’s a cupboard of cans.
Don’t fidget with the napkins.
The boy polishes and pockets
a fork, a spoon, the white cloth
napkin in his shirt pocket now.
Hail beats the roof, heavy wind
tweaks the walls and for once
there’s no rush to keep
moving.
Eat.
Lawrence Eby writes from Southern California. His first book, Flight of August, won the 2013 Louise Bogen Award and is forthcoming from Trio House Press in the Spring of 2014. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Passages North, Arroyo Literary Review, The Superstition Review, as well as others. He is the founder of Orange Monkey Publishing, a small poetry press, and is Poetry Editor for Ghost Town, California State University, San Bernardino’s national literary magazine. He also volunteers time on the Inlandia Board of Publications and is a founding member of PoetrIE, a writing collective in California’s Inland Empire.
Return to July 2013 Edition
