Friday, April 21, 2023

poets setting fire for light By Keith Pearson


poets have been known to confuse
the geography of their redemption
to sleeping in peace with a burning cigarette
under their pillow or talk
with the gun still jerking at their lips
a mouth greasy with oil and fear
as they kiss you
heart sooted with smoke and laughter.

poets do not tell lies
but have been known to put
their mouth to the fire to find hope
curse from dreams through seared flesh
paint scar tissue in shades of pink and black
or sometimes dress alone in
the colors of stars from
a blind moon night.

poets will tear pages straight from the tree
climb to a wavering peak to read
the underside of a golden leaf
or circle beneath a falling word
on the odd chance it may save the world
drop their torch in the wizened leaves
to better mark their path
and stare in wonder as their world burns clean.

poets do not stare down
from the optic nerve of their heart
but speak aloud with fingers of woven rope
praying their words have the strength of vines
something to carry the world along and through
green and searching and holding fast
even as they flail without mercy
at the burning thing that lets them breathe.

for scott ferry






keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.


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