With its black strokes, singing,
it smears me, lavish.
I’m the night’s white canvas
turbulent and stiff.
I can grab the stars in my hand.
They burn but I can’t let them loose.
BEST OF THE NET 2023; Essay in THE BEST AMERICAN ESSAYS 2018;
(cited in BAE 2015, 2016, 2020, 2022); PUSHCART poetry finalist
Issue: Spring 2014 » Poetry
With its black strokes, singing,
it smears me, lavish.
I’m the night’s white canvas
turbulent and stiff.
I can grab the stars in my hand.
They burn but I can’t let them loose.
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