Adam Turl, Medusa of Old Town Liquors (2015), detail
1.
a bird built a nest
in my grandfather’s
up-turned welding goggles
the day after
he died
I never told
my grandmother
this, but
the dead
are dead
and the living
are dead
and
by August
the nest
was empty
2.
more empty houses
than homeless
more grocery stores
than hungry
more traffic
than air
but,
a hero’s love
dying on you
like leaves
3.
so,
the knife of you
grinning
through the gaps
in your teeth
is sharp enough
to cut origami stars
from the dark
and heavy
fell in love
moon
4.
there is a peacekeeper
among us
some armed guerrilla
can/does
play revolt
on hundreds of wrecked
pianos
in a nation
that is wearing
murder
in a cemetery
of children
pecked by birds
5.
we can not escape
wheels of war
or this blooming hour
of neutral
tiptoeing
mice
suicides
light as air
far away
Mike Linaweaver is a poet and founding editor at Strike Magazine in Corpus Christi, Texas.