When the unholy broke us
first I moved further from the flame
then leaned toward your hard, cold facts
bone against dream
and weary ghosts in full bloom.
Your unmoored words shook down
thunderstorms, then a cloud of smoke
appeared like newborn cries
along the plumb line
of our lives. Say something
to resuscitate us. Say something
about deep rivers below
the floorboards of this home.
Say something before time stumbles on,
before my voice forgets how to sing,
before this shattered place
has its way with us.
1. essay in Waxwing Magazine, spring 2018, "Distinguished Member of the Regiment"
2. essay in Solstice Literary Magazine, spring 2018, "Come Home in Glory"
3. poem in Stone Canoe, spring 2018. "Geometry Class"