All night I’ve been watching
the blue streaks of birds outside the window
covering the cosmos in a cloak of encounter.
There is a single visible tree
still smoking from last century’s fires,
from yesterday’s storms. I’m counting my blessings
which fill the silence with numerous voices.
The stars melt down the walls of the sky
and I gather them in golden jars.
I float them to the bees in times of scarcity.
I’ve been mad for honey my entire life,
but can barely contain the sweetness
of a single wrecked horizon.
I draw the night clouds around me,
the frail leaves, the black-eyed architects
of frost. I sparkle among the last
green plants of evening. I hear the poisonous
hush of the moonflower opening its
jeweled hands, of the rain-slicked serpents
colluding in the dark.
Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, Ghost City Review, Rust+Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. His full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. Visit him at www.sethjani.com.
Artwork: Leslie O’Dell, mimic