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