I always associate Homebound Publications with my dear friend and amazing poet Linda Flaherty Haltmaier, as they have published two (awesome!) collections of her work. It was my pleasure and honor to provide a blurb for To the Left of the Sun, and I can’t recommend it more enthusiastically! The poems in To the Left of the Sun are so alive?they whisper, they shout, they pulsate with fury and wonder and the compulsion to dig deeper into the game of existence. They need to be read aloud, shared, celebrated. We remain fortunate to add Haltmaier’s distinctive, vibrant voice to contemporary discourse.
Homebound also curates Wayfarer Books & The Wayfarer Magazine, and once again I’ve slept on the fact that a poem of mine was published, b/c they are proudly old school and it’s print only (check it out, and think about picking up a copy to support independent lit mags, who make the lit fic & poetry worlds run!). I thank them for including “Adaptation” in their 2021 Spring/Summer issue!
Adaptation
There he is again.
Hiding behind the sign
he carries: an indictment,
an excuse, or an alibi.
A human red light, suspending
forward progress while we wait,
idling and impatient.
His disheveled coat utters
its restrained account, a reminder
this earth is contrary to animals
who spend their lives indoors.
The smaller creatures commune in other languages
and acquire coats of their own, evolved
in accordance with an ancient plan:
experiments of Time and Nature.
These awkward imitations adjust as they must,
and improvise as they go, grateful for hand-outs
from those higher up on the food chain.
The elements say little, impassive
to the cries of creatures ill-equipped to survive
their offerings, seasonally bestowed.
It wasn’t always this way,
the one stranded at the next
intersection could attest,
but he’s been displaced and
not for the first time
secures his own space:
change of scenery for the evening shift.
Listen to the birds, as they screech
in joy, or agony, or indifference.
Hidden in the trees and
hopping astride the curb, stopping
to snatch the occasional crumb.
Opportunistic, experts at adaptation:
Equipped with soft armor and discerning eyes,
seizing whatever their environment affords.
The wind whines and they take wing,
instinctive formations in autumn’s overtime.
Incapable of asking questions or
airing concern, at home in a world
where they fly and die
when their quick and tiny hearts decide.
