James Thurgood was born in Nova Scotia, grew up in Windsor, Ontario, and now lives in Calgary, Alberta. He has been a general labourer, musician, and teacher – not necessarily in that order. His poems have appeared in various journals, anthologies, and in a collection (Icemen/Stoneghosts, Penumbra Press).
//
Chinatown
we rose from bed
opened the curtains:
the old Chinese ladies
seven or eight
on the sidewalk
at one edge of the small lawn
– hands clasped at backs,
in dull peasant garb
chirping and twittering
like all the birds of morning
we washed, dressed –
downstairs, put on a record
sliced strawberries and peaches
to eat in yogurt
which was new
kissed again
with fresh ripe mouths
stepped out the door
to a city full of summer
the old Chinese ladies
had gained the further edge
of the lawn –
we laughed
thinking them slow
and silly
now I would beg them
not to rush
would listen as to angel song
would want them never to reach the end
of that green street
\\
Earlier version published in Loggerheads
ISACOUSTIC* 