Sickroom

A matter of fact thrill likely bends into arcs.

A thrill to send signals in a different direction. I will bring you, a bottle of water pressing a palm, to your forehead. In a town that’s the source, of pressure from the breeze introduced by a petty glory. I never seemed able to move both hands more than in circles. I’m certain about why you can only be found as the darkest of syrup

Days Among Them

I counted one day at a time when I settled among them. Keeping things in place; hearths fueled with coal, courtyard filled by feud. Before we became cloistered in the game of hide and seek. We took a chance at the exit, where hocus pocus vanishes. Signing on the dotted line, to feel the lesser emotions. Reshaping life’s remainders as makeshift of other kinds.

Guidelines

No one has the willing tread, on a street paved with alibis. A grace of reluctance that's never realized but a past reflection of the chains traces. Orange buildings clustered, in masses in glass and steel. Constant noise sustained, loud as a bolt of thunder. Where I grew gaunt, cheekbones broken, the hairline silvered. Kowtow at baseline, claiming to perform defiant at end of day.

ABOUT:

City boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston. Numerous works appear in journals online and in print. Recent: agapanthuscollective.com, feversofthemindpress.com, impspired.com. Anthologies (Fevers of the Mind Press) @amazon.com. National Library of Poetry Editors Choice Award 1997. Twitter: @MichaelIgoe5.

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING:

Haunt / A Light by Seoul