Bea Garth   © 2015 All Rights Reserved


When a friend reads to my class,
his lines fall into a shape
carved out by their own sound

flying ahead. Soon, horizon-red,
a half wafer moon will sink
into a space that craves it.

When I first saw you, love
in blue sweats, standing in the door
of an old church, cheeks red

from a January run, snow still
melting into your hair, you moved,
keyless, into my vacant chest.

Iíd never heard its creaking floors
until you walked them, room
to room, unlatching the casements.


Michael Lauchlan
Copyright © 2015  

Lauchlanís poems have landed in many publications including New England Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, and North American Review. His work has been included in anthologies from Wayne State University Press and Oxford University Press and has been featured in The Writerís Almanac. His most recent collection is Trumbull Ave. from WSU Press.

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