Sarah Rosenblatt - Poetry

                TWO MONTHS AFTER LUC'S DEATH

     The sun shines through a tall man’s ears
     making them glow.
     Children watch the garbage truck
     through the holes in the fire fence.
     
     The morning passes
     through the child’s sifter in the sandbox
     And through the households 
     Immersed in ritual.
     
     A child touches the birthmarks
     On his father’s back
     Saying, “Sun. moon, sun.”
     
     The summer moves forward
     With picnics
     And questions
     
     retrace themselves in the bones of my fingers.    
    

Luc Leplae's Comic pages.