The American Poetry Review

MONTPEYROUX SONNETS 2021

Village gone silent in pandemic mode.School’s closed. One small girl with a bike is out.The narrow street recedes into its doubtof baker, butcher, neighbour. On the road,cars rarify, whisk by trees that explodein redbud, apple blossom, presage fruit.“Have you had your first, your second shot?”Masked conversations shrivel into code.When I was here last, I could walkback to my histories in Arboras,sweater in backpack, if the wind turned cold.I could see people’s faces. Chatter wasabout elections, new café, roof-tiles.When I was here last, I was not so old.

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