Early morning I walked
to the hardware store,
then did concrete work.
Filled erosion gaps around
the stoop, patched shift
cracks in the back wall.
Messed with words this
afternoon. Hoped a few
shy figments from sleep
would drift close enough
to the light I might pluck
them from their matte
black fog. They hide like
the trout you know are
there: tight to a big rock,
shielded under reflected
sky. I cast, expectantly,
repeatedly, all my best
lures until it felt more
like a job, then a creek to
be worked again, maybe,
someday in this perpetual
month of somedays.
Gerald Wagoner grew up in the Northwest. He became a sculptor, then moved east to study. He has resided in Brooklyn, NY since 1982. Taught Art and English for the NYC Department of Education—1988 to 2017. 2018: Visiting Poet Residency: Brooklyn Navy Yard. 2021: Curated/hosted: A Persistence of Cormorants, reading series. Publications: Ocotillo Review, BigCityLit, The Lake, J-Journal, Blue Mountain Review, Maryland Literary Review, BA Writing U of Montana, MFA Sculpture, SUNY Albany, NY.
