for the 2 caged yellow canaries
holding a staring match
The day after a week
of rain
I thought I saw myself
in the eyes
of a passerby
but it was a hat.
*
Ever since the taxi
driver sped-up
for the puddle
the hat
doesn't sing anymore
and the rain is yellow.
©
is the author of the chapbook Round Trip (Seven Kitchens, 2010), a collaborative series of poems with numerous women poets. He has recent or forthcoming poems in journals including: Barrow Street, Colorado Review, Diagram, Horse Less Review, Hunger Mountain, Interim, Poetry East, Southern Humanities Review, Sugar House Review, Versal and several others. He lives in Cambridge, MA with two canaries, and sometimes teaches poetry workshops at the University of Rhode Island in Providence.
McLellan’s poem “April: the shape of: a shadow of” also appears in this issue.
