by Glen Armstrong
Completely new and un-
predictable, the neon
sign never blinks.
Its light bathes the street.
Its meaning sinks in.
To make a message of glass
tubes and beautiful light
is all I ever wanted,
and my sweetheart is happy
for me and the neon.
Let us be for a moment,
but don’t leave us.
Language makes light,
light makes language,
and no one makes love
until adjustments have been made.
I wade in the VACANCY
while the NO looks on
like a lighthouse
or a whisper in a language
yet to be.
Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has two new chapbooks: Simpler Times and Staring Down Miracles. His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit, and Cream City Review.