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On a Train from Eindhoven Reading "On a Train from Newcastle Sitting Forwards"

To everyday describe the tree.

What aftering would autumn leaves

let go? Which color brown most pleases

this corner of the fence? Is it the one

burst-bright with sunlight, chestnut

come amber glow? Is it the rain-slicked fawn

pushing down the fleeting winter days with its tongue?

Its compliment clods of moss appear,

unannounced, dappling the tiles

in the backyard. There’s a kind of seeing that

erases what isn’t right in front of you. A love of winter

is a love of leaving. In this wind,

the tree has wings.

On the Morning Walk Around the Block to Simulate a Commute

My coworkers and I saw a crow with a branch in its beak

       two doves

       some number of finches in the neighbor’s

       scaling ivy

slight breeze

nine degrees, that’s c.

high clouds, but cloud covering

       quilted upon the table, &c.

Hot pink blooms on the bush across the street

some shoots shot up like alfalfa grass

alfalfa’s hair

a half-moon strip of adhesive still on our window

       from Fred’s stork

       Hoera, een jongen!

Thoughts keep crystalizing


I ate a turkey sandwich for lunch

       it had pickles on it

everything here has a bit of nutmeg—

       the mushroom soup

       the meatballs—

(baby bird flits)

I felt I was eating pie-spiced gravy for lunch

it’s easy to do

add a pinch to your Dutch baby

my Dutch baby says a gutteral ha

He’s almost two.



Laura Wetherington is a U.S. poet based in the Netherlands. Laura works as the poetry editor for Baobab Press, teaches creative writing at Amsterdam University College and through the International Writers' Collective. She's the author of A Map Predetermined and Chance (Fence Books) and Parallel Resting Places (Free Verse Editions).

ISSN 2632-4423

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