by Gregory Luce

January in Washington:
Moving through
my workplace
I catch a scent
of watermelon
source unknown
blink and it’s Dallas
in July my grandparents’
backyard glaring
deep green Bermuda grass
brilliant at 10 a.m.
already too hot to do anything
but search for garter snakes
in the shade of the house
and scratch for worms
in the dirt next to the shed
then my grandmother
calls me in for lunch
and after it’s too hot
for even a nine-year-old
boy to play outside
so I make domino forts
and bombard them
with poker chips
then crawl onto the sofa
and read until the
cartoons come on
and finally my grandfather
gets home and it’s dinnertime
fried chicken or pork chops
with greens and potatoes
and biscuits and afterwards—

Image courtesy of the National Watermelon Promotion Board.

Gregory Luce was born in Texas and still resides below the Mason-Dixon line in Washington, D.C., where he works for the National Geographic Society. He is the author of two chapbooks, “Signs of Small Grace” and “Drinking Weather.” His poems have appeared in Kansas Quarterly, Cimarron Review, Innisfree Poetry Review, If, Northern Virginia Review, Juke Jar, Praxilla, Little Patuxent Review, Buffalo Creek Review and in the anthology, “Living in Storms.” To find out more, visit his blog or follow him on Twitter @dctexpoet. 


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