The air is satin
I can barely breathe it

and I can’t surface
above it to catch my breath

The moon is a brushed cymbal
My skin hears it day and night

If you touch me
coyotes sing

and day is night
and night soars

over the abyss
Let me talk to the cliffs

If the sky can hear me
it doesn’t care

If the rocks understand
something at least

will preserve the gist
of a bitten finger and scalding fog

Brian Jerrold Koester

---

Brian Jerrold Koester is a Pushcart Prize nominee and a Best of the Net Anthology nominee. His collection is titled What Keeps Me Awake (Silver Bow Publishing) and his chapbook is called Bossa Nova (River Glass Books). His work has appeared in Agni, Streetlight Magazine, Delmarva Review, Right Hand Pointing, Louisiana Literature, and elsewhere. He lives in Lexington, Massachusetts and has been a freelance cellist.

Artwork: Rob Woodcox
Website: http://robwoodcox.com/

31 Oct This entry was published on October 31, 2021 at 12:01 am and is filed under 48 (October 2021), Current Issue, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.