Sunday Morning

June 16, 2020

by Bruce E. Whitacre

A photograph of a cup of tea. The cup is clear and the tea is green — Photo by Marco Arment / Flickr

Sunday morning on the parquet
Sunday morning on horseback

Sunday morning picking lice from her hair
. . . with a rosary and prie-dieu

Sunday morning with eggs benedict
. . . hiking the trail

Sunday morning loading the llamas to flee
Sunday morning taking down the bodies hanged as warnings
. . . lining up for rice and clean water

Sunday morning in the dog park
. . . digging someone this trench

. . . flying home from the slopes
Sunday morning throwing that fairy from the roof
. . . dodging a drone

Sunday morning building Legos for the little guy
. . . cruising garage sales for Depression glass

Sunday morning spraying down the roof
. . . probing for eels in the Keys

Sunday morning pulling corpses from the fence
. . . teaching the porter how to read

Sunday morning reviving the witness for more

Sunday morning God’s day of rest
Sunday morning like all the rest.

Poetry

Bruce E. Whitacre’s work has appeared in Cagibi, HIV Here and Now (Indolent Books), and North of Oxford. He has been a featured poetry reader at the Forest Hills Public Library. He has read his work at Poets House, the Zen Mountain Monastery Buddhist Poetry Festival, Kew Willow Books, Lunar Walk, and other venues. He completed master workshops with Jericho Brown, Alex Dimitrov, Rowan Ricardo Phillips, and Mark Wunderlich. He holds an MFA in dramatic writing from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and is an activist and advocate for the arts and social justice. He lives in Forest Hills, Queens.