Tony Nozero © 2010 All Rights Reserved
If the leaves outside my window weren’t arrows
The size of human heads,
Weren’t all tilted slightly down—
If the wind didn’t rifle through them
As if searching for something hidden
If the sky was not so incomprehensibly blank,
Such a great distant absence,
I might make more of my mind than an elaborate nest
For my eyes.
I have seen, again and again, this view,
Watched the branch nearest my window split
In two parched tongues,
Watched night slurp the day, swallow hard, then sigh.
It is different and the same each time,
As I am the same
I tell you, I feel the view in me,
Like I sometimes feel ice water sit in my stomach,
Like I feel the blood of my father.
MRB Chelko is an instructor at the University of New Hampshire and editorial assistant of the unbound poetry journal Tuesday; An Art Project. Her poems have recently appeared (or are forthcoming) in the Portland Review, Fourteen Hills, Lumina, Light, Contrary, Silk Road, and others. Her first chapbook, What to Tell the Sleeping Babies (sunnyoutside press), will be released in November 2009.
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