Fall 2009 / Issues / Poetry 2009 / Volume 40

Sign of Spring — Richard Dinges, Jr.

Robins have no red

breasts, pale orange

iron-poor blood,

powerful perhaps

when romance dawned

and poets place robins

in phallic phrases,

pumped hormone full

of summer’s heat,

slowly drained

through centuries into

springs diluted behind

closed doors and drawn

drapes, when everyone

sits inside and watches

sunrise on TV screens.

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