Fall 2007 / Spring 2008

Rue Du Coq d'Or, Paris

by Christopher Barnes

Seven in the morning.
In her confinement
This feather bed cows.
Lurking mildew and soot
Hassles her bronchus.
Damp, tinker's pot black
Streams down the window wall.

She's sensate,
Radioluminescence at the glass
From sore red sun,
And gaunt, frail to the bones.

Rue Du Coq d'Or, Paris, seven in the morning.
He spick-and-span elf-boy sleeps
On the twists of the mattress.

Tomorrow she'll grapple laundry
Foisting on a study bloom.