Keith S. Wilson
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her wasting
away like sugar-water
in the smile of my arms.
make-believe carillons of nectarines
and pears, strike like fireflies
finding mecca. i wear her
like a net of fog.
arizona, we are gaping
through your ribcage
at the stars—at our backs
the crinkling giraffe
of a flaming trailer—and we sigh
into the truck, already raveling.
now the plain of a breath,
this night will be more,
it will be less: this will be a wrist
of great and orange feathers.
and in the scarlet dark, we dare
each other never to die,
in spite of ourselves, breathing—
like a two-hearted dragon—the ripe plums
of an escalating air
Keith S. Wilson is an Affrilachian Poet, Cave Canem fellow, graduate of the Callaloo Creative Writing Workshop, and recipient of a Bread Loaf scholarship. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in American Letters & Commentary, 32 Poems, Cider Press Review, Anti-, Muzzle, Mobius, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. His poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net award.