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
some number of finches in the neighbor’s
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
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
(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).
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