Solstice 2005

By Connie Andes

i.

She senses something elemental

when the light begins to leave midsummer

as hurricanes scuttle the south coast

then mountains move in Pakistan.

All the while the sun shrinks

from what’s unnatural in Iraq, and she

breathes the stale air of anonymous

death, feeling diminished

like the day’s length.

ii.

Somewhere outside Fallujah

between the north wind and fa-la-la

darkness curls through graying hair

buried in chenille and down

settles on her forehead like a mother’s hand

testing for fever, lingers among tinsel

the ninth ward and mangers – threads through

profit margins, car bombs,

and relatives

salves the wounds of a troubled year

with possibility.

– Connie Andes lives in Lawrence.