Robert K Johnson Verse-Virtual 2019 February

February 2019

Born in New York City (in Elmhurst), I lived in several different places there but have memories only of The Bronx (off Fordham Road). Then my family moved out "on The Island"—to Lynbrook, where we stayed till I graduated from Hofstra (then a College). Several years after my wife, Pat, and I married, we, plus our two children, settled in the Boston area and have remained there (except for my daughter, Kate, who has lived in Manhattan for quite a while). I have been writing poetry since I was twelve (many moons ago).

IN 1941

how easy it still was
to camp deep in the woods,
to hike, cook on a fire
piled with kindling, and sleep,

dreamless, under silent stars,
then--completely at peace--stroll
back into the daily world
on December 8, or even 9.

FEBRUARY IN THE CITY

This is a day the sidewalk
is covered in grey snow
more ice than snow

while aligned beside it
is a row of scraggly bushes
embedded in earth iron-hard
and a brick wall dulled with dirt.

This is a day I walk as fast
as my blood pounds inside me
and fight to breathe despite the cold
pressing against my throat.

This is a day so harsh and beautiful
it leaves me no choice
but to be brutely alive.

previously published in THE AUROREAN

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