Chorus Ensemble
I make my own music, a promise
Tied to strings until I learned to untie them
My father’s fourth son but
Only the third left with the hope
Keeping in the cage of our bones
This is its day
Clear as spirits
Grief dislodges
Comes in with an ocean-roar
Foam splashing onto the shoreline
Lapping onto
Its salt eroding things away
Its teeth pulling skin from my fingers
The blood is pulled back and under with each wave
And we watch, it’s coming again
That gush of the shore and
Loopback to before
The first time seeing ourselves in the ocean
The first time the sky saw itself in a lake
The window is an opening that divides and
We continue to whirl on Earth
Holding a plastic cup of impatience pissing on death and flowers
There’s youth flashing smiles around like there’s no stopping the
sun from rising or the moon from phasing
Turning into something new ###
Mitchell
Flanagan
Mitchell Flanagan is an artist, writer, and musician. His poems
have appeared in the magazine The Chronogram in August of 2010 and December
2011. His work has previously appeared in Ariel Chart in April of 2020. He's
currently working on short stories, novels, and poetry books. He also writes
songs, plays bass, and sings with his band Cold Heaven. He lives and sleeps
occasionally in Newburgh, New York.
Fine, fine work, Mitchell.
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