Two Octets from the North End

kerby ave octet

(2/4/17)

red push reel mower collapsed on a sloped lawn

under a camellia; were this summer,

a corner to take in shade on fresh trimmed grass;

but this grass droops shaggy, nobody’s in sight,

& the drizzle is a cold kiss on cold skin;

a pergola draped in honeysuckle’s bones

leads no place: around the corner a holly

hides the scrub jay, its glissando going sharp

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vancouver ave octet

(2/5/17)

fractured cedar branches laid out by the curb,

a rose-pink parks & rec sign with white letters

uprooted on a lawn, 5-gallon bucket

filling with rainwater where bergenia leaves

pile up—tires hiss south down the avenue;

ivy vines gone dormant on pickets glisten:

one streetlight shines up from the puddle raindrops

ripple as if they wrote the script for kindness

Jack Hayes

© 2017