by aaron dargis
I haven’t cleaned a pan in days
and can’t think of a reason to sweep the floor.
I’ve been sitting at the table, smoking,
watching a finch go to and fro her nest all morning.
I envy her task to knit a home, ever temporary,
lay an egg, hatch– needing a mother.
I press hard to my navel and feel each breath
rise with bird song, scent of peony
and strike a match to light
my last cigarette from the pack.
I picked the neighbor’s peonies, arranged them
in a pitcher I use for lemonade.
I worry when he’ll fiddle the doorknob–
liquored, speaking gently for my body.
I dream with wind to my back.
My only joy is beyond the windowpane,
curve of distant hill and other side of
idle life I once lived serene in my ways.
The wind raises a branch laden with buds
bursting with the morning sun.
"Tuesday Morning" was noted as Honorable Mention for our 2017 Up North Poetry Prize.
Aaron Dargis grew up in Michigan and now lives in the Foothills of South Carolina. He is Poetry Co-Editor for South 85 Journal. His most recent poem, ‘Grey Partridge’ appeared in Panoply Magazine as “Editors’ Choice.”