Jody Azzouni



Originally published in Hanging Loose 79, 2001.
Added 3/24/2020
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Poem | Jody's Notes


We overlook details, it’s true:

our friends and relatives are clouds,

shaped ominously or quite fluffy;

bringing only weather into our lives.

Now and again

(not when we’re in love, of course)

something snaps into focus:

a bit of bone, perhaps, or an episode told,

the tone off in a way that makes us sit up

(or leave).

Someone we know swings a rifle butt

and we recognize him at last.