A Question For Chicago / Joshua Alan Sturgill
Can’t see her yet; she isn’t far
ever east and north of you
ever through the morning dark
spent flower, leaping whale
cold heart of a new world
— grey and pale
Tell me, Chicago, the tale
of fortune sunk in inland seas
of steel temples, lean and tall
divining secrets from the mist
why it’s never Winter when I visit
— always Fall
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2025 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
darklybrightpress.com 