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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Sonnet for a Crepuscular World

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.


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