Monday, 19 December 2016

A poem by C.J. Miles

Something Not About a Damselfly


There is a sky, I'm told, above
Everything: drunk, dizzy,
Screaming, I gave you rivers,
I gave you cancer, what more?
Why are you always calling to me?
I am always calling to you.
I've spent the last eight hours flirting
With the walls between us.
Living alone, what a dumb way
To be, so I am giving up on being
Good at anything that isn’t you.
There is a sky, I’m told, above
Everything, and today you are
That sky, a scratched record
That keeps skipping: hip thigh,
Hip, thigh, your funny bone,
A laugh track to everything
That makes your spine blush.
Imagine if dragonflies breathed
Fire, imagine the sun stopped
Paying rent. Watch me forget
Everything that came before you.
Watch the sky, always above
Everything, gripping what we know
To be the ends of tomorrow.








C.J. Miles lives in Iowa with his wife. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Forage, Eunoia Review, and Algebra of Owls. Follow him on Twitter at @cjmilespoet.

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