M E D I A T I O N S O N P E R S P E C T I V E
by Matthew Zingg
Because the sky was wax paper the planes were
flies stuck in their holding patterns.
It was just one of those days.
You said: the city was wearing its clearest uniform.
I said: the brow of the park looked
scabrous and fresh
in its Sunday best, the air a shade
of yellow easiest to forget.
It was a game we played—to see how far the other
could take all this acreage.
A balloon lifts up a couple blocks away
and it means an explosion, a portent
or it means a slow eye. In other words
Matthew Zingg‘s work can be found in The Paris-American, The Awl, Blackbird, Cider Press Review, HTML Giant, The Madison Review, Birdfeast, The Rumpus, Everyday Genius, and Muzzle, among others. He lives in Baltimore where he hosts the Federal Dust Reading Series.