← v12n2, Fall 2013
Poetry · Volume 12, Number 2

Aubade: Homesong

Big sun already, fourth of July; waves

of heat creasing vision; scent

of magnolia strong-arms the yard;

exhausted zinnias buckle under.

Huge morning wanders my way,

familiar, supple; I know its swathe

and waste, its storm-cowl

hung on the horizon.

Some memories you wear like a locket.

It’s heartless, though,

this imageless gravity of home,

this savage lodestone.