Tipton Poetry Journal
Two-Tone Greetings Susan Niz There are stretches in life when you will have to walk windy concrete blocks with dusty air drying your throat, or traipse the expanse of desolate parks with brown grass your only silent companion. Walking stiffly, you imagine yourself as the old person you will once be and all that will loom behind your dark shades, swim in your medicated pupils. The clarity of your regrets, the salve you coat it with, will change your gait and define your stride. In those times, you forget the magic of orange light through curtains, which illuminate a brightly dyed blanket or the warmth of wool socks that melt the iciness from your toes. Sometime, songbirds will speak to you boldly in two-tone calls. It’s nearly Spring, they will say. You’ll breathe a damp air and smell all that is growing underfoot and yet unseen. Your steps will be light and your lungs full and a lady will be walking down the other side of the street, still wearing a knee-length coat and walking her dog and you’ll call to her a two-tone hello and she might wave or crack a smile or even let the wind carry her constrained voice across the street, across decades, across warm, lost moments, to you.
Susan Niz has work which appeared in Blue Bonnet Review, Two Words For, Belleville Park Pages, Ginosko, Cezanne's Carrot, Flashquake, Opium Magazine, and Summerset Review. Her first novel Kara, Lost (North Star Press, 2011) was a finalist for a Midwest Book Award (MIPA) for Literary Fiction. Susan lives in Minnesota.