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Chill Comfort

Text of Poem

The sun rose, burned off the mist,
morning serene as a tranquilizer the dream,
busy traffic with its happy sound,
my stomach pleased with breakfast,
coffee aromatic, hot, waiting—
what more could I want?
An empty eggshell feeling
leaves me in a hollow of time,
pen heavy as a crowbar, paper blank
denies meaning to black marks.
All this because the damned telephone
said I couldn’t see you today?
I look out the window,
even the bird feeder is empty.

First Line
The sun rose, burned off the mist,
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
Original Citation
Virginia Quarterly Review 52 (Winter 1975) 72.
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