Sky violets a bridge—it’s that time of day
again. Time to sit and wait, and go,
eventually, to where the road wants.
Dead stop, gridlocked, French song
on a loop. In front of me, a wall
the semitruck makes and brake lights
amour     windshield, a smear the shape
of an arc, bird shit, red half-moon,
red face, darkened, red—now stop.
I stop. It’s this song in French
amour     the only word I know     l’amour
and something about sadness,
I think,     and red light—how it demands
we slow and stop      amour      go, then follow
• • •
TO READ MORE POETRY, PICK UP A COPY OF VOL 56 No. 1
LAWRENCE DI STEFANO’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in RHINO, Bear Review, STIRRING, The Shore, and Santa Clara Review, among other journals. He holds an MFA in poetry from San Diego State University and is co-editor of poetry at the Los Angeles Review. He is currently working on his debut chapbook. Find him at lawrencedistefano.com.