Photo by Megan Nixon on Unsplash
Good times in exchange for no interruptions, the strange gods we’ve become
we confuse footsteps with our whimpers
Who knows what could hurt the most, the great fall
from the plump nest of amorphous bubbles
In lingerie of bay leaves and Queen Anne’s Lace
let the shadow things lick thee from eyelid to spine
With my Campari red blood on their teeth
or taste of raw rendezvous on their tongues
I’ll see new depths of the forest, new life in the eyes of those they sublime
Nicholas Alti’s poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and The Best of The Net and called discomforting by his mom. He has an MFA from the University of Alabama and an unimpressive credit score. His poems are in Puerto del Sol, DIAGRAM, Poet Lore, Newfound, Into the Void, and other lovely publications.
JMWW 