Saturday, 15 July 2017

A poem by JC Reilly

Ghazal for My Father


The whooping crane has a right to orange koi.
It gobbles up your (black and white and) orange koi.

For a month, the crane lands at the pond to eat.
Fish disappear—you think it’s a blight on orange koi.

The morning you see the crane at breakfast, you toss
a mossy rock at it, and miss—a fright to orange koi.

You chase it off—it takes to the sky, all fierce feathers
and frolic. In its mouth, the flight of orange koi.

Once you set the sprinklers to coincide with its stop;
the crane does not mind, takes a bite of orange koi.

Next you build a fence, and then you tie some net,
but the shade begins to smite the orange koi.

The net and fence come down; the crane comes back,
a victory whoop and the pond grows slight of orange koi.

Dwindling fish upset you more than the crane’s tenacity,
but you retreat, give up the fight for orange koi.

Or so I think. You buy more fish to stock the pond;
your daughter Justine writes the song of crane and orange koi.









JC Reilly writes across genres and has received Pushcart and Wigleaf nominations for her work. She serves as the Managing Editor of the Atlanta Review and has pieces published or forthcoming in POEM, The Absurdist, Picaroon Poetry, broken solace, Hawai'i Pacific Review, Imperfect Fiction, the Arkansas Review, and Rabbit: a Journal of Nonfiction Poetry. When she isn't writing, she plays tennis or works on improving her Italian.

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