The Blue Hat

By WYATT TOWNLEY

The forecast was wrong.
The bald guy smiling
but wrong. The blonde
with swinging hair

wrong. Their software,
their reading of currents. Rain,
they said, rain for days.

We wore the wrong shoes,
postponed the garden,
the walk in the woods.
Overhead: blue—and red
tailed hawks make their arcs;
sun and wind cross
in a tango of shadows.

The forecast was wrong.
And that prognosis?
The doctor sat down.
We had the chat.

Now lose the umbrella
for the big blue hat.

 

[Purchase Issue 12 here.]

Wyatt Townley is a recovering dancer (now yoga teacher) and the former Poet Laureate of Kansas (2013-15). Her poems have been read by Garrison Keillor on NPR, featured in Ted Kooser’s syndicated column, and published in journals including The Paris Review, North American Review, Prairie Schooner, and The Yale Review. Her books of poetry include The Breathing Field, Perfectly Normal, and The Afterlives of Trees.

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The Blue Hat

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ALAA ALQAISI
We stepped out with our eyes uncovered. / Gaza kept looking through them— / green tanks asleep on roofs, a stubborn gull, / water heavy with scales at dawn. // Nothing in us chose the hinges to slacken. / The latch turned without our hands. / Papers practiced the border’s breath.