by Peter Grandbois
Here is the sunrise withering
all we desire with unearned grace
Here is our first mistake throbbing
with intimations of happily ever after
And here, every note fingered
from the familiar absence of far away
Instead of distance slipping, give me
the moon-drawn night
pulling us back to the world
Instead of the present forking
through worlds of probability, give me
memory like mad swarms of bells
The door downstairs is merely a hand
in front of your face, a shadow
of what has always been your own
Beyond the pluck and lift
Beyond the frail color of farewell
Beyond the whorling sum of words
The body listens to itself
Hear it ringing
Peter Grandbois is the author of twelve books, the most recent of which is Everything Has Become Birds (Brighthorse 2020). His poems, stories, and essays have appeared in over one hundred journals. His plays have been nominated for several New York Innovative Theatre Awards and have been performed in St. Louis, Columbus, Los Angeles, and New York. He is poetry editor at Boulevard magazine and teaches at Denison University in Ohio. You can find him at www.petergrandbois.com.
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