Poetry from Justin Lacour

A bee perched on a strand of goldenrod

Photo: Jeffrey Hamilton

Sunday, 9:35 a.m.

The washed-out light

in the forest.

Color of a hangover.

There’s an oak tree by the pond,

goldenrod and broken glass.

A woman like the sun, crying.

Justin Lacour lives in New Orleans and edits Trampoline: A Journal of Poetry. He is the author of three chapbooks, including My Heart is Shaped Like a Bed: 46 Sonnets (Fjords Books 2022) and This Fire, forthcoming from Ursus Americanus Press.

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