On my way to the car, I look for blood
on the fence you punched. Mostly I see rust
the rivets and the wood staples. I pause
there for a while. It’s 6Am. Too early to
be light misshapen to anyone else’s eye
but mine. I am light that falls in the forest
Maybe your friends just aren’t that great
Maybe I don’t have any. Maybe I am the
lost brother, because this blood we have
has only congealed in me, to punch inward
I drag my finger along the fence. The
company is called Memorial Fencing
I wonder what I look like, reading
its list of names
The juxtaposition of these two verses is just fantastic:
I am light that falls in the forest./Maybe your friends just aren’t that great.
This could be a song.
This could be a lot of things on top of being a really insouciant poem.
I love it.
I don’t know how I missed these two poems…but I’m glad I caught up with them. It’s 6AM here too.
Glad you did too.