For Lack of What is Found There

It is difficult
to get the news from poems
— William Carlos Williams,  Asphodel, That Greeny Flower, 1955

At the front a hummingbird.
In the back yard rabbits and an orderly
line of doves taking turns
at the suet cake.
Bright sun. No wind. And the news about to fight
its way between commercials
to bring a daily sadness
to the screen. The street

slopes quietly down to where
drought begins. A few clouds decorate
the eastern sky, but stay
dry as legislation afraid
to keep guns from the hands of tonight’s
party-goers, who

will be up late to enjoy
the coolest hours, sweat dripping from the moon
and all night stores
aglow beside the rising prices
for gasoline at the pumps outside them.
The loneliest among us

have the late shows to distract them
while starlight shines
on a parking lot hosting
a company of revelers
until good times turn to bad

and the night rains
gunshot with
each rhyming gunshot.

David Chorlton looks forward to getting back into the nearby desert park as springtime progresses. That park proved interesting enough to him to base a short book of poems and paintings last year, The Inner Mountain (published by Cholla Needles in Joshua Tree, CA). The coyotes come down to the streets in his neighborhood and move with style! Read other articles by David.