albina ave double octet

(2/6/17)

waxing moon with sea of tranquility framed

between utility lines; a chair, white paint

peeling, carved seat holding water, appears to

be free; rain’s stopped & one stratocumulus

takes on the cedar’s contours, billowing east;

tires are stacked four high between  heaped bramble

& chain link; a crack in that side street’s pavement

curves west toward the watertower’s black rise

◦

a privacy screen woven from dried bamboo:

lawn chair half visible past it & windows

mirroring buildings reflecting this late light—

down the street a fence rail lashed to a tree trunk

with nylon rope, a pink child’s car flipped over,

a curbside basketball hoop with blue backboard;

inside a cedar’s skirts a flock of juncos

chirps electric, naming the liminal hour

Jack Hayes

© 2016