By J.J. Tindall
How Everywhere She Is
How everywhere she is:
in the brittle trill of cicadas,
each with claves, sound
swirling like a flock of wooden blackbirds,
the sharp, black whoosh of the Blue Line–
which would be thunder, but the slugging,
fat hip-hop bass line from a passing car–
THAT is thunder, and thunder, and thunder.
The burgundy tree, candy litter, the far end of her street
I pass fetching beer and, occasionally, groceries,
the silent jogger, cars slowing to turn,
the park where we walked her awesome Weiner dog,
analyzing his leavings like emperor’s eunuchs,
any other park, sound, image, intimation.
How everywhere she is
now she’s gone.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
Posted on August 29, 2012