Peter O’Donovan is a scientist and writer living in Seattle, WA. Originally from Saskatchewan, he received his doctorate in Computer Science from the University of Toronto, with a focus on design aesthetics. His poetry has appeared in the Torontoist and Qwerty.
6am and the traffic again.
Slipping in through shut-tight panes,
a murmuring at first, musicians
tuning strings, turning them up.
Starting softly, but finding sound,
their fingers tapping all in sync
then starting in with little trills,
an engine rev, a streetcar squeal
coming in, reflecting, rising high
to a strutting chorus line of cars
with horns that shout ecstatically now:
Come join the bikers, those aerobesque
dancers diving, driving bells ringing,
down the laneways, all with singing:
Join the buses, those muscle men!
Surprisingly agile, waltzing by,
with sun reflecting on well-oiled skin
and operatic smiles, bellowing wide:
Join our goddamn band you can’t deny!
And you, who sleep so soundly through,
who laughs at me, curled squirrel-tight.
You, who move strangely without noise
within the room’s hazy half-light
your hair still black, your face unchanged,
as from years ago, so quick and pale
as you lean down, lifting up
lips in the stillness