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MISSED HEADLINES
Somewhere in this city, men
sweat under overpasses
sweat in slivers of shadow
in workboots
on their lunchbreaks
while others
sweat against cement
walls waiting for a break
in tough luck, for storms
that were promised like
second chances, second
kisses, a second more
to spend with a first love
or a firstborn child.
Somewhere in this city, families
in a Walmart parking lot
are torn open, parents hauled
into the unknown, shimmer
of hot asphalt witness
to their scatter
like loaves of bread
for the hungry
geese at Byrd Park
they tell you not to feed
because all that whiteness
sticks in their throats
and bloats their bellies
like questionable politics.
Somewhere in this city, strangers
gather in a sunset park
on folding plastic chairs
as if seeking redemption
for something, absolution
for something, a sign of something, maybe
across a poem or a story, a
voice whispers a hurt,
a silence is given, a tear
falls, a hug; they depart singly,
with sunflowers,
a little less alone.
About the poem: I wanted to share some of the things that hit me over the last month—both the highs and the lows. Woven into this poem are deep concerns over reports of ICE raids close to home, the beauty of a poetry share in Jefferson Park (shoutout to Mollie Reinhart and Befriend), and the draining effects of this July’s record heat. Special thanks to River City Poets’ Monday night critique and members Archie, Pete, and Will who gave the poem a good once-over before it reached this newsletter!
Learn more about Joanna’s work on her website or on Instagram (@la_poetessa) and stay tuned for more content from our Poet Laureate.
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