By M.J. Iuppa
Day into night into the next day pajamas into night
pajamas, into the wash, and worn again; but this day
matches day top with night bottom; and later on, re-
verses it all, when suddenly it’s eight p.m. and shadows
grow like tall buildings; even though we live on a farm,
not in the city where you are, and Spring has begun in
Prospect Park where you run without looking over your
shoulder, until you run home as if someone were waiting
for you; and, when you open your door, it begins to rain
so hard that nothing surprises you.
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). She has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario for the past 31 years.