Poetry by Jo Angela Edwins

Carl Wycoff CC



Sundown 
 
after Jericho Brown 
 
You cannot catch the daylight, and you will not let me help you. 
We have fought this fight before, hands flying through the air. 
 
                        We have fought this fight before, hands flying through the air 
                        until our bodies tire. This mad circuit must burn out soon. 
 
Before our bodies tire, this mad circuit must burn out soon. 
I have better things to do than force your eyes to see past darkness. 
 
                        You have better things to do. Please. Force your eyes to see past darkness. 
                        Look there—the morning doves build their nests outside your window. 
 
Oh, look at the mourning doves, two and two, outside your window! 
You loved them, named them once. You would talk of them for hours. 
 
                        You loved me, named me, once. You would talk of us for hours. 
                        Now you’re blind to love. You scream like an innocent in jail. 
 
You’re blind to my love. I scream, Innocent! In your jail, 
you cannot catch the daylight. You are too proud to let me help you. ​




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Jo Angela Edwins has published poems in over 100 journals, including recently or forthcoming in Door Is A Jar Magazine, Shō Poetry Journal, The Hollins Critic, and Words & Sports. Her chapbook Play was published in 2016, and her collection A Dangerous Heaven is forthcoming this year from Gnashing Teeth Publishing. She lives in Florence, SC, where she serves as poet laureate of the Pee Dee region of South Carolina.