March 19, 2019

Poems from the Spring 2019 issue.

I didn’t see the line when I crossed it—
only light, making everything new; 
here, they say the winters spill out, 
white a boll inside my palm; 
here, gold adorns the trees, 
the sun sheds its effervescence through the leaves;
I touch the place where the master split my head with iron, 
even that imperfection is brilliant here;