every autumn by Scott Ferry

i climb inside myself

to where the winds and dark can’t reach

but ironically the place inside is also

a dim and voice-swept place 

where light and song weakly

glint and swish though the brine 

and i lift up another face

the adhesive side of tape

the pointed ends of nails

seams half-soldered

strange fish dangling

glottal bait at the

 silence

Scott Ferry helps out Veterans heal as a RN in the Seattle area. His most recent book is fishmirror from Alien Buddha Press. You can find more of his work @ ferrypoetry.com.