The Dark Hours
A policeman, some mango, a car garage, the core
of the city: bartenders, taxis, sirens, homeless
children. A policeman, radio gargling, eyes
a canary: caught between two battered pipes,
beaten, blind, the color of corrosion, grey skin,
butter beak, a song, thin. Take a lesson from
those neon signs, canary, learn to sing through
the dark hours. A policeman, gazing down
at his lap: a poppy seed doughnut, a slice of mango,
a dead canary, all yellow, neon.
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Talin Tahajian is the recipient of the Sixth Annual Helen Creeley Poetry Prize, a finalist in the Nancy Thorp Poetry Contest, com- mended by the New Hippocrates Prize for Poetry & Medicine, and a national medalist in the 2013 Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Adroit Journal, Crashtest Magazine, and The Postscript Journal, among others. She will graduate from Belmont High School in 2014.