By: Paul Ilechko
A vanished sun stained the roughness of their hands
as you turned to the door blue against the red brick
of the wall walking backwards to watch them
as they sprawled across the stubbled field pale
as church light in the late afternoon there had been
rain and there had been the memory of rain
and there had been days when it seemed the sun
might never rise again the birds were absent
in that petrifying silence so many people were solitary
in those days feeling no necessity for human contact
and you felt lost in a world that crept up on you
a world that was not a place in which you ever measured
time you stayed in your bed for hours even though
you realized that eventually you must begin to move.
Poet and songwriter Paul Ilechko is the author of three chapbooks, most recently “Pain Sections” (Alien Buddha Press). His work has appeared in a variety of journals, including The Night Heron Barks, Rogue Agent, K’in, Lullwater Review, and Book of Matches. His first album, "Meeting Points", was released in 2021.