The boy will burn his leopard coat.
A curry of heaven, the muscle of a wish.
And what of the honeysuckle,
sewing their faces into lush
roadside? (Deep breath. Just a little—)
The flesh is a wilderness. Come morning
the juicyfruit moon will sash its velvet
curtain. Their eyes, hardened as wish
stones, skimmed. The lake's blue cool
lover. My dolls are always happy, the boy tongues
over the saint's lips, then down over the inked pistols,
draped over the thinnest wings.
Mitchell Glazier was born in Martinsburg, West Virginia, in 1995. His poetry has appeared in The Adroit Journal, on the Editors’ List for the 2015 and 2016 Adroit Prize for Poetry, and in Dialogist. He is currently enrolled in the MFA program at Columbia University.
More from Vol. 34, Issue 3
To Sing, In Dixie // The Extinct Fresh Water Mussels of the Detroit River // The Ivory Gull Under the Bridge Over the Flint River // Noon in a Corner Café: The Sign
Louise Labé, trans. Leah Souffrant
Andrew S. Nicholson