Homage: Vallejo

By Ishion Hutchinson Ishion Hutchinson
Brailed up from birth, these obdurate, obituary corners
of second life the hospital light ravened solstice

blessed with a caesarean and now we have a republic,
the bread under arm, water-bearer of the sea: Cetus, Christ.

After the blackbird I put on my herringbone jacket,
the feather hummed gargoyles bearing down buildings,

rain scowled down, Vallejo and Vallejo as I hurried
up Eager Street; Thursday, I remember the white stone

in the flask and wild asterisks hissing; Thursdays, falling
at noon, at Cathedral Street, blackbirds falling quietly at Biddle Street.

Source: Poetry (April 2014).

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This poem originally appeared in the April 2014 issue of Poetry magazine

April 2014
 Ishion  Hutchinson

Biography

Born in Port Antonio, Jamaica, poet Ishion Hutchinson earned a BA at the University of the West Indies, an MFA at New York University, and a PhD at the University of Utah.
 
Hutchinson’s narrative poems interrogate landscape, measuring the elusive weight of colonial history. Reviewing Far District for the Huffington Post in 2010, poet Carol Muske-Dukes notes that as readers of the collection “[w]e are here to reinvestigate . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Social Commentaries, Cities & Urban Life

POET’S REGION U.S., New England

Poetic Terms Couplet

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