Peter Leight: “Sometimes I Think the Uncertainty Brings Us Together”

Sometimes I Think the Uncertainty Brings Us Together

When I touch your hand it feels like a hand and not a drawbridge in the up position, I’m not pushing you away—I’ve been here the whole time, I would have noticed.  Of course I trust you, if I turn away it’s only to look at something else, only because I need to look around.  I’m tired of guessing, are you going to tell me what you don’t want me to know?  I’m placing my hands on your waist, one on each side, stiffened like a sluice rather than a hose, holding myself in place, keeping my fingers out of your mouth while I’m waiting for it to dry out, I often look at you when you’re not looking at me—I think your face is a hiding place for eyes, please leave your eyes where I can see them, please don’t take your eyes away.  Are you trying to ruin it?  When people are apart they need to be together, and when they’re together they start moving away from each other, as if they’re disappearing together, they’re not even looking for each other—if you don’t care okay you don’t always care, nobody cares about everything.  I want to be close to you, I’d like you to trust me, how far apart we are often depends on how we feel about each other, and what we need from each other.  Do you need me?  Do you need anything about me?  Sometimes I think it is the uncertainty that brings us together when it is only measuring the separation.

 

Peter Leight has previously published poems in Paris Review, AGNI, FIELD, Beloit Poetry Journal, Raritan, Matter, and other magazines.

 

Tim Suermondt: Two Poems

It’s Always Been Big

My wife sleeps on a pillow wide as this city,
but only I get to sleep on it with her—draped
as we are over the streets, avenues, boulevards
and the hundreds of thousands who wave red
hearts from the skyscrapers and the old tenement
houses once white as the Milky Way. Darling,
the paradoxes of this Universe love us endlessly.

 

In the Luxembourg Garden I Check My Watch
 
You’ll be here soon, coming over
from Rivoli, wearing the red beret
you wanted to buy a week ago.
I have our lunch in tow and you’ll
find me walking around the basin,
counting every paper boat there is
and contemplating the timelessness
that will still exist long after we’re
gone—this is Paris, after all, but I
assure you the ham sandwiches will
get their share of attention, the future
street sign bearing our names near
the shop I bought them at will display
its mustard color flame like a sunflower.

 

Tim Suermondt is the author of four full-length collections of poems: Trying To Help The Elephant Man Dance (The Backwaters Press, 2007), Just Beautiful (New York Quarterly Books, 2010), Election Night And The Five Satins (Glass Lyre Press, 2016) and The World Doesn’t Know You, published by Pinyon Publishing in late 2017. His fifth book, Josephine Baker Swimming Pool, will be released by MadHat Press in January 2019. He has poems published in Poetry, The Georgia Review, Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, Blackbird, Bellevue Literary Review, North Dakota Quarterly, december magazine, Plume Poetry Journal, Southern Humanities Review, and Stand Magazine (England), among others. He is a book reviewer for Cervena Barva Press and a poetry reviewer for Bellevue Literary Review. He lives in Cambridge (MA) with his wife, the poet Pui Ying Wong.

 

 

Serjevah Davis: “Oleander”

Oleander

bright eyes
that radiate through
jewels of oleander
piercing
through each orb’s centered hazel
white light escapes
wildly

a haphazard web
birthed by euphoria and
madness
graceful in form
brittle from the gale

each delicate soft
spindle floats
softly
to the floor
what poison is this
that intoxicates my senses
mesmerized
by the orchestrated chaos

each breath you take is
a symphony
of emotions so deeply
entwined
with the drum of my own heart

we drink our vices sweetly
and toast
to the ones
we’ve left behind

 

Serjevah Davis grew up in Tampa, Florida and graduated from the University of West Florida with a Bachelor of Arts in Theatre. Currently based out of Minneapolis, Minnesota, she hopes that one day her poetry will encourage readers the same way this beautiful art form has encouraged her.

 

 

ayaz daryl nielsen: Four Poems

the earth isn’t elsewhere

the wooden framework
of our bones
of our immorality
of the tortoise on top
as it rises from the waters
of all the tortoises
all the way down
standing on each other
rising from the waters
and I and you, you and I
rising with them to the
green leaves, light, and
holinesses creating,
sustaining, and
embracing all of us

——

the geese flying low
a snowdrift in our garden
all as it must be

——

falling petals
a vase with red
and yellow roses
upon the glossy
mahogany table

——

window of being

geese in the moonlight
coming across stilled corn
we can hear their winged prophecy
a window shining with being
formless, pure, sudden and needed,
life-extending being without need of
prayer or forgiveness
being home again
being healthy
just
to be.

ayaz daryl nielsen, veteran and former hospice nurse, lives in Longmont, Colorado, USA.  Editor of bear creek haiku (28+ years/150+ issues) with poetry published worldwide (and deeply appreciated), he is online at: bear creek haiku: poetry, poems and info

Stacey Z Lawrence: “Spared”

Spared

Flat on my back
I taste your breath
and track
your blades
hover for hours
I will not sleep
despite good weed.

The doctor warned my
nips might tingle, so
I pull the duvet
tight and swaddle
myself, like you did
when you were alive,
to our baby girl.

Under the covers
I use my finger,
hips
lips
clit

nips
pink and hard,

still mine.

 

Stacey Z Lawrence teaches Poetry and Creative Writing in a public high school in Northern, NJ. She is working on her first book of confessional poems, which explores the untimely death of her husband shortly followed by her bout with Breast Cancer.

Lily Tierney: “Stars”

Stars 

A burning passion roaming the night’s sky
placing me in between heaven and earth.

Dare I ask for more among the silent twinkles,
or is it enough to know they are there?

Stars, collect all of my feelings that you
give so freely to the night, and my eyes are
closed to the journey of trust ahead.

 

Lily Tierney‘s work has appeared in several online magazines along with some print. 

David Anthony Sam: “The Orphan”

The Orphan

The unweighted half
of a seesaw
balances skyward–

I have fallen
with stinging thud
in my alone–

the whole sky
fills
with vacant blue–

 

Born in Pennsylvania, David Anthony Sam is the proud grandson of peasant immigrants from Poland and Syria. For most of his life, he lived and worked in the Detroit area, graduating from Eastern Michigan University (BA, MA) and Michigan State (Ph.D.). He lives now in Virginia with his wife and life partner, Linda. Sam’s poetry has appeared in over 80 journals and publications and he has five published collections including Final Inventory, published by Prolific Press in October 2018. Sam’s chapbook Finite to Fail: Poems after Dickinson was the 2016 Grand Prize winner of GFT Press Chapbook Contest. He currently teaches creative writing at Germanna Community College, where he retired as President in 2017. He serves on the Board of the Virginia Poetry Society.