Ode to Bishop – Carl Boon


Late September means

the chickens—


in summer imperturbable—

scatter at the shack’s wall.


They sense a flesh confined

trucks moving away,


the ends of all things

hot and strange.


This evening the wind

has shifted; the vines


have browned, fall against

the boy’s summer plan:


a pyramid, a monument

to which he did not pray.


Mother tries the door.

The cat has perched atop


the Hyundai top,

a kind of porch,


and symbols here have pushed

away to need—tin foil


makes a drape, branches

of fig to fence the strays.


When the rains come,

the girl, barely old enough


to lie, will gather armfuls

of rocks, wishing they were clouds.


cb-picCarl Boon lives in Izmir, Turkey, where he teaches courses in American culture and literature at 9 Eylül University. His poems appear in dozens of magazines, most recently Burnt Pine, Two Peach, Lunch Ticket, and Poetry Quarterly. He is also a 2016 Pushcart Prize nominee.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s