Sunset In Chicago
February, 4:30 PM, the sun slants sharp
through the large, streaked,
boarding gate windows at O’Hare airport.
Waiting for a flight home and for the
sun to leave the sky around
the same time, both of us heading west.
The sun will sink beneath
the broad tarmac of landing strips,
turning everything between us
into silhouettes casting shadows.
Stuck in the airport waiting for a plane
which keeps moving further away,
taking-off later and later, hours
delayed, allowing me to pound
away laboriously at the keys of my laptop
trying to wring poetry
from the commonplace,
pull profundity
out of mere inconvenience.
Yawning into the glare of the
setting sun.
February, 4:30 PM, the sun slants sharp
through the large, streaked,
boarding gate windows at O’Hare airport.
Waiting for a flight home and for the
sun to leave the sky around
the same time, both of us heading west.
The sun will sink beneath
the broad tarmac of landing strips,
turning everything between us
into silhouettes casting shadows.
Stuck in the airport waiting for a plane
which keeps moving further away,
taking-off later and later, hours
delayed, allowing me to pound
away laboriously at the keys of my laptop
trying to wring poetry
from the commonplace,
pull profundity
out of mere inconvenience.
Yawning into the glare of the
setting sun.
M.J. Arcangelini, born in Pennsylvania in 1952, has resided in northern California since 1979. He has published in little magazines, online journals (including The James White Review, Rusty Truck, The Ekphrastic Review, The Gasconade Review, Trailer Park Quarterly, As It Ought To Be Magazine, and The Rye Whisky Review), & over a dozen anthologies. He is the author of 6 published collections, the most recent of which is PAWNING MY SINS, 2022 (Luchador Press).
Absolutely wonderful! Bravo!
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