Featuring Pris Campbell

 

Time Knows 

The angels of mercy 

occasionally fly by my house, 

singing ‘walk in the garden’

or rugged cross songs 

and I’m back in my childhood church 

sipping communal wine

and choking down stale crusts, 

the body of christ.

Sometimes they taunt me, 

dragging my old boat past,

and humming sea chanties, 

with dead lovers, 

hair white, 

flying behind the stern.

I stick out my thumb 

to hitch a ride  on the boat 

but they disappear.

I’m left alone to make faces

from the shadows moving across my wall

and write poems 

no new lover will ever read.

Consolation

You’ve only known me
with my body slain and
curled deep into soft spaces
dreaming of billowing sails
bike rides, hair flying,
along dawn-pink ocean swells.

You’ve only seen me with my brain
in under-drive, thoughts short-circuited.

A turtle could outpace me now.

Soil from the grave dropping
to reveal your translucence,
you speak to me of days
we wished we would have had together,
days when our bodies were unbreakable,
minds yet unseared by loss.

I reach out my hand to console air,
tell you we’ll still have those days
when both our ashes straddle the wind.

Pris Campbell has both free verse and short forms published in journals and anthologies. The small press has published eleven books/ chapbooks.