Jean Janicke

Can You Hear the Whistle?

It’s the sound you hear when the kettle starts to sing
or the deep desire when Midnight Star would sing.

A haunting ancient sound over the city of Beijing
from a reed fastened to the end of pigeon wings;

14th and Penn, cars block the box
send orange-jacket arms waving.

Wind strikes the edge of branches
and the air starts oscillating.

A politician speaks in code
of banks and forced busing.

Construction workers call a cat,
and I hope my Jeans don’t cling.

Jean Janicke writes, dances, and works in Washington, DC. Her work has appeared in Passionfruit, Paper Dragon, and The Last Stanza.