Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Sun
by Allison Chopin
“I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.”
-Wallace Stevens
I
Out of wispy dawn
In early grey hours
Emerges the sun.
II
I am the waiting dew
In the weeds and the dirt
As the sun soothes my face.
III
Sun melts snow;
Liquid collects
In puddles and joins streams
In spring.
Waters trickle south
And the rivers rise.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
The earth and the water
Are one.
The earth and the water and the sun
Are one.
V
Flowers lift their heads.
Rays of sun strike
Viridian leaves
And cells gather up light
By the barrel.
I reach up to the sky
And pull down nothing
But clouds.
VI
Meanwhile, roots dig deep
Away from the sun,
Drink in water
And minerals from the
Bowels of the brown earth.
They’re feeding the food chain too.
VII
I retreat to the shade
And shield my face
From stinging ultraviolet rays.
I slather lotion on sun-freckled skin.
VIII
The grass works all day,
Sun and soil turn to sugar.
Then the world spins on
And hides the light ‘til morning.
IX
Dappled cattle graze blades of grass
To munch on solar calories.
Their keepers
Are farming the sun.
X
Once you were in love with
A blonde boy they called Sunshine
But he left you for a violin.
He didn’t forget you.
XI
Withered eyes of poets
And song,
Why do you prefer
A thunderstorm
In the black of midnight
To the sun?
XII
I compromise.
I live for days
When it’s drizzling
But the sun still shines.
XIII
It was morning.
It had rained
And we didn’t want to wake.
The sun’s faint laughter
Peeked through fraying curtains
And brushed my cheek.
—
Allison N. Chopin is a native of the Deep South who now lives in Greenpoint. She’s a magazine assistant and freelance writer, and in addition to writing poetry, she is currently working on a novel about vampire romance and time travel.
Jessica Prusa is an artist living in Bushwick. Check out her Tumblr and website to see more of her work.
