2 March 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 1
Love Glazes Streets and Makes the Trees Glisten
What breaks is threatening.
Even the cat with its small growl
backs away
from the window
when the door slams. The coffee pot creaks.
That man on the couch slumps into himself
as winter slumps into the year. In the parking ramp
he knows the girl runs
between cars,
the wide silences of the floors which echo
her thoughts in ways she could not imagine, her life
in the vortex of change. December. The dangerous first snow
sparkling in the streets like diamonds, so much harder than it seems.
About the author:
Damon McLaughlin works and plays in Tucson, Arizona, where he most enjoys spending time with his wife and newborn daughter. His poems appear online and in print, and among his various honors is a Puschcart nomination. Among his recent endeavors is (re)forming a band, though the right drummer has been hard to find.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Damon McLaughlin at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 4, No. 1, where "Love Glazes Streets and Makes the Trees Glisten" ran on March 2, 2004. List other work with these same labels: poetry.
