Issue 153

Winter & Spring 2018

Image from Territory

Poetry Tracy K. Smith Poetry Tracy K. Smith

Driving to Ottawa

More and more now we slip

Into this tone of voice, the hush

Of people talking about someone

Who has just died, only

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Poetry Tracy K. Smith Poetry Tracy K. Smith

Beatific

I watch him bob across the intersection,
Squat legs bowed in black sweatpants.

I watch him smile at nobody, at our traffic
Stopped to accommodate his slow going.

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Poetry Tracy K. Smith Poetry Tracy K. Smith

Charity

She is like a squat old machine,

Off-kilter but still chugging along

The uphill stretch of sidewalk

On Harrison Street, handbag slung

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