The Lost Country

Spring 2013 • Vol. 2, No. 1

issn 2326-5310 (online)


By Donald Carlson

This work was published in the Spring 2013 issue of The Lost Country. You may purchase a copy of this issue from us or, if you prefer, from Amazon.

Why is it that night falls but morning breaks?
The streets and paths are gradually drained of light.
Our trek around the neighborhood that takes
Mere minutes tracks the strangeness of our plight.
We started out in halflight—mellow, settled,
Then as we made our progress through the street,
A shadow flower opened, and it petaled
Concrete pavement, covering our feet.
The voices of some shadowers unseen
Upset the dog. He stops and contemplates
Who might be trailing with a backward lean.
The frogs grow raspy calling to their mates.
So gradual; yet suddenly we’re hurled.
We walk from day into a darkling world.