My Love For All Things Broken
say this road here
but you mean really something else
already autumn is beyond what you can give
pulses cross beats stilled
day breaks bones
to be here means missing
someplace else fir trees
star dust how the hand folds
in on itself say wind but you really mean
sails stripped bare subtle disappearances
don't know what went missing or when
the next turn off the highway will creep up
and you will bend that way
forever.
- James Diaz 2017
James Diaz is founding editor of the literary arts & music journal Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in Psaltery & Lyre, The Ekphrastic Review, Quail Bell Magazine and Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, (for which his poem, The Balance Between Us, was nominated for the Best of the Net.) He is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018.) He currently resides in upstate New York.
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