by Samuel Strathman
For Li Po.
The blue loams are immovable.
Silver blossoms – how they writhe
From the frigid air that traverses the terrace.
Youthful laughter resounds,
Accompanied by the clamour
Of children mounting climbers.
Echoes of where they used to play,
Back when families cared
about arable land.
Now the fog is here to say
In a parasitic capacity,
The ground, rigor mortis.
Stars illuminate the feet
Of a walker, shivering in a light coat,
His breath chugging before him into the night.
Samuel Strathman is a Jewish/Canadian poet and author who was diagnosed with a non-verbal learning dis/ability at the age of seven. Some of his poems have appeared in Train: A Poetry Journal, Quadrant, and on Dusie, as well as many other magazines and journals. He lives in Toronto, Ontario, Canada with his two cats, Archie and China.