In the Gloom of Late April

These mornings taste of iron; somehow, its bitter
tang doesn’t wash off the tongue but stays in the back

of the throat, like a cry that suits the constant hunger
of just-hatched robins, wanting their bellies full be-

fore it’s too late. Our windows are pried open
a crack, letting daylight swirl in & out, casting

a spell that makes us realize that we too are rudder-
less and strangely naked and full of doubt.

M. J. Iuppa’s third full-length poetry collection Small Worlds Floating was published by Cherry Grove Collections in July 2016. For the past 28 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario.

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