Produced by Dennis Camire
This week’s poem is by Jeffrey Thomson of Farmington and the University of Farmington. In August, publisher Alice James Books will publish his new collection, “Half/Life: New and Selected Poems.”
The Halo Brace—XXIV
By Jeffrey Thomson
There is a sound that rises
every dawn, the morning windows
striped with light,
that is the sound of rustling grain.
J.’s hair, dark gray and blackish brown,
rain’s color on aisles of asphalt,
shifts and pours across the pillow,
dark star, black petals. My whole life
I have heard this sound: the wind
in the winter sycamore rattling
curled leaves, the long sharpening of knives.
I loved this sound before I knew
it came from her, in hornets caught
in blue flowers, in snow ticking
iced glass and the marvelous hum
of our cells counting down, dividing,
dying. Come with me, listen quietly.
The sound I love is the sound
of my love moving, water flowing,
a spadeful of dirt returning to the earth.
Dennis Camire can be reached at dcamire@cmcc.edu
Send questions/comments to the editors.
