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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