A Poem For Sunday

st paul sky

From “Trying to Leave Saint Paul” by Jim Moore:

Little streets of Saint Paul

that lead nowhere. One of them
ends where quiet drunks sit
in the old September grass
on top of a hill.
Street cars used to run here,
through a tunnel cut into the hill.
The sun rides so low
in the cloud-filled western sky,
it makes the empty bottles glow.

(From Invisible Strings © 2011 by Jim Moore. Used by kind permission of Graywolf Press. Photo of the St. Paul skyline by Flickr user Jeremiah)