Trudging On Catherine Sigurdsson

TRUDGING ON Catherine Sigurdsson

The dark black stone and the darker water, The broken bodies of cannon fodder, The heavy feet that fall as mice scatter, The sewer gates wrought of iron clatter— All cling to me as I thrust forward to light, Pull my bleeding feet deeper into blight.

The scratching tinted sheets starched stiff, The cherry red baby pink soap with tar’s whiff, The symphony of coughs and hacks and moans, The scattered taps of nurses and doctors’ groans— All draw to me as I slip backwards to gloam, Fill my echoing ears with fading worms that roam.

The yellow fields glistening gold under blistering sun, The stalks sinking and ripe with work to be done, The brown dust rising and clogging my breath, The rushing river’s white peaks and navy depth— All open to me as I collapse downwards to dark, Wash my blighted skin free of calamity’s mark.

CHALLENGING THE STARS

Sonali Konda

As the sun sinks Slowly into its cloud-canopied bed below the horizon Splatter-painting the sky with rosy fire and purple shadow

The stars come Into the spotlight, blazing bright pinpricks Against the shadow-blue canvas of night

The lines between them Trace pictures in the sky, constellations we name And point out to each other, excited, laughing

The stars are there for us Always gleaming against the curtain of darkness at night Returning every evening to shine down from their celestial home

But we're challenging them Filling their midnight domain with our own harsh, electric light Replacing their friendly glow with streetlights and skyscraper windows