The Delinquent
I patter through static departments
disrupting the midday, midweek
midwinter lull of the middling weather
and the middling temperature—
What was it the wise man once said?
Surely it was: middling, middling
all is middling.
All is middling except the sun
who, at the moment, is sticking
his radiant and rebellious finger
up at our concession to middling.
He does so by peeking through
the windows which trace cubicles.
Oh, he would scoff at a middling
word such as “peek,” for he crashes,
he collides, he cartwheels, he cakes,
he clatters a countering cacophony
of lustful luminescence.
This delinquent — yes, I am still
referring to the sun — consumes all
that middles.
Caroline Liberatore is a poet, editor, and librarian from Cleveland, Ohio. Her vocations are indicative of what she cares most deeply for: the written word, artistic and intellectual excellence, embodied presence in local communities, commonplace beauty, and redemption as articulated in the tangible, reconciling work of Christ. Caroline serves as Editor at The Clayjar Review and writes regularly on her Substack, Dog-Eared Inquiries.
Amethyst Review 