August Light


when
the evening
creeps
into the empire of day,
the light
turns
nostalgic.

I see my mother
in her green, egg-shell
patterned smock   buzzing
around
my dad
who’s sitting out-
side  on
a kitchen chair in
a sheet
to keep himself
clean get-
ting
his hair cut
flinching at every knick
every
itch

I   hated
her in
her green smock
because I knew I was next:
the shaver
and snipping
scissors
mosquito-
biting
my neck—the tiny
filings digging
into
the skin
irritating to a scratch—

 

in the garden of lush

Rousseau-
dark
cucumber jungle patch,
nudetomato
plants and
snake – pear   tree insects
circle,
looking
for an opportunity to feed.

And it is   august
I remember
most—with its warm
kind of light
shaded with shadows and
full
of home,
sadness,
and a sense of loss.


Questions and Answers

What inspired “August Light”?

I was struck by the warm Hawaiian sun while on vacation. It took me back to my childhood backyard in August in Toronto, when the garden was full and lush, when the vegetables were riping on the vine, and the humidity was near 90%.

What poetic techniques did you use in “August Light”?

It is free verse and a bit of free association. I brought in Rousseau because his jungle paintings are lush, sensual with a hint of danger lurking.


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