Issue 6: Lex Runciman

by Frederick Siegel

Equatorial Waters

You get news you’d rather not.

The sidewalk mumbles cold nothing.

Skies cloud; coffee in the mouth goes metallic.

Park jays squall and berate, and spears of bulbs

Dream green laborious manufactures. 

Miles south at the Costa Rica Dome,

Great blue whales calve

And feed in an upwelling of krill. 

Newborns gain nine pounds an hour.

Nothing repeats.  I had never heard today

The voice I answered at waking,

Nor the one that called me an hour ago. 

Wednesday, light fog, 35 degrees. 

And at noon in this building

I may be the one person thinking equatorial waters,

Flukes wider than rooms, hearts the size of cars.

Lex Runciman has had work recently in Ascent, Hubbub, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. And a poem in Cloudbank recently won the Silcox Prize from Mountain Writers. His most recent poetry collection is Starting From Anywhere (Salmon Poetry, 2009).

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