Nostalgia

By Chase Berggrun

Wist is wetness
and why, wind,
why. Go and gather quickly
before every shadow
has dispersed to everywhere
but beside you. God governs only
what happens while
it happens: this want
is wine of  your own making.
Loud the quieter times, and quiet
loudest still, and reach
and reach the branches that tree
beside your bedroom window,
growing to grasp you though felled
ago no less than half a decade.
How a day so dear and treasured began
with a fist in your face. Skin-to-skin.
Even the memory of that sound, somehow.

Subscribe
Join Our Community
Subscribe
Join Our Community

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
Subscribe
Join Our Community
Subscribe
Join Our Community
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Get On The List
We'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
SIGN UP NOW!
Get On The List
We'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
SIGN UP NOW!