~
Sonnet (Anthem)
There was a time when we thought
of time simply as a backdrop for talking
each other out of shirts, out of shoes,
out of skirts & slacks. Afterwards, we’d
watch thin insects blunder through the
smoke we made. If I was perfect, I’d hate
what we did perfectly. I hope to be
perfect. But I still have something to say
to you. It should be whispered late at night
over coffee, a full ashtray, at a diner on the
furthest edge of civilization, barbwire & wild
dogs by our window. Something like “I keep
a blanket & a six-pack for you; my heart would
spew confetti if you ever walked down my street.”
~
Justin Lacour
Justin Lacour lives in New Orleans and edits Trampoline: A Journal of Poetry. His chapbook My Heart is Shaped Like a Bed: 46 Sonnets is forthcoming from Fjords Review.