Allen Forest    © 2017 All Rights Reserved

                   When we watched Sci-Fi reboots,
it meant

gravity              well couldnít
                        hold us. But

Love, when you disappear
                        in a mess of angel-grease,
Iíll hazard your

                        rank, ceremony,
                        your airlocked
body wonít      return.

With you,
I                       donít
need to explain.

                        We float beyond the range
                        of the Resurrection Ship,
devour human story.

Iíll tell you thisó
                        but wonít go all biblicaló
this, now,

is the promised land,
you                  frantic for work,
me                   nursing my back,

                       coffee table slid away
                       so I can hold your ankle
                       while we watch TV,

                       which is all we can manage,
the night
of these short days.


Christopher Carroll Crew
Copyright © 2017  

Christopher Carroll Crew is a teacher, father and (extremely) amateur ornithologist. His poetry has appeared in Atlanta Review, Natural Bridge, Bodega, Grub Street, and Dunes Review. When the light is just right, he can see salmon in the Cedar River from his Renton Public Library study desk.

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