Ode to a Lemon Landscape

I wake up in my bones.
The prognosis is tricky.

I fathom it was the familiar burn
of fantasy.

It’s later, the bare noon-light
is laid out revealing the bruised pink

of a ripe peach sky & time,
time running south.

Harm is in our way.

In that unscreened atmosphere
something is always new.

Those dark marks from the sun
that make a tired mind sleep twice.

Once, I felt a rope rise
under my arms. I took the ride

& my mouth stopped smiling.
What if I had it all here

or in New Orleans, a city
I've never breathed—

would I be waiting for real magic?

Terrell Jamal Terry’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Columbia Poetry Review, West Branch, Green Mountains Review, Washington Square Review, cream city review, Juked, Radar Poetry, and elsewhere. He resides in Raleigh, North Carolina.