The cock crows at sunrise – a novel idea.Here it comes, round and yellow
and warmth-giving like a brand new space heater,
oh boy, the excitement of it all!
Not like yesterday or the day before,not like tomorrow or next Wednesday.
Ah, to share in his exuberance! In fact, I crowed
at daybreak twice last week myself,
just to give it a go. Didn’t seem to work for methough, like howling at the moon
or scuffing the smooth turf with my heels
or rolling over and over, just can’t quite manage
to scratch that itch with compulsiveanimal behaviors. Think I’ll try
running circles around the porch light tonight.
See if maybe that does the trick.
She looks out onto a grey-green landscape,all blocky structures and angular shadows
populated by small things that alternatelyfreeze and run for cover, and she gives voice
to new feelings, imaginings, itches that willpresently be scratched. In such a place and time
it’s good to be a predator, lovely to be alive,lovely to be the object of communal fear.
REFLECTION ON THE WAVES
Reflection on the rolling waves, lookslike an albatross flying backwards
fleeing upwells, chop, stray lobster pots,reflection and shadow soaring on
in place, rising above the surface ofthe sea, surging upwards like a fighter
jet, like a missile, set to explode intoa roiling school of high altitude sardines.
Baltimore native Jeffrey Park lives in Munich, Germany, where he works at a private secondary school and teaches business English to adults. His poems have appeared in Requiem, Deep Tissue, Danse Macabre, Crack the Spine, Right Hand Pointing and elsewhere, and his digital chapbook, Inorganic, has recently been published online by White Knuckle Press. Links to all of his published work can be found at www.scribbles-and-dribbles.com.