He had that edge of panic on his voice.
The wet air was rising off the ground.
Although no one heard the paper to fire,
we all stood around making our choice
for a wedding night’s loss. The pillow
gained strength but the two of you did not.
Soon your face will sleep like a child’s hand.
Burn the entire village while you say no
to living like a blur across the sky.
Think of the holidays and all the children
scattered around the country because of your
shattered dream only able to say—let me die.
Michael Poage was born in Virginia. He has published ten books of poetry, most recently Human Ink (Blue Cedar Press, 2017). He has just received an appointment as the Poet-in-Residence at Dzemal Bijedic University in Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina. He teaches English to international students at Wichita State University.
Appears In
Cagibi Issue 5
