Two Octets

mississippi ave octet

(2/13/17)

slats on the garden bench look rickety; it

leans away from a whisky barrel planter

crammed with dead vines; the fig tree branches

out smooth, taupe, pruned; rose bush can’t let go of those

                      

last dozen black leaves; daffodils perforate

clay, fern fronds struggle through bricks laid at random—

the orange tabby cat hunches on porch steps,

eyes fixed where sun might take cover past rooftops

◦           ◦            ◦

alberta st octet

(2/13/17)

lime green chair tipped over in the vacant lot,

beside it on asphalt a tree limb speckled

with lichen; by a black rocker two black cats

stare out yellow eyed from a porch; the boxwood

is clipped, a shovel with yellow blade lies down

by a white fluted flower urn gone askew

& moldy; magnolia figo grows dense

past a board fence put there perhaps for graffiti

Jack Hayes

© 2017