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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.