Poetry by Jeffrey Hermann

                Marketa CC



Big Sky 

Walk behind your father 
in the snow 
as a child, placing 
your steps into his,
 
and you’ll never want 
for daydreams. 
You’ll never want 
a home of your own.

The sky is roughly 
the same size 
no matter what 
state you stand in,

no matter what Montana says.

I’ve come to believe that 
if you die in heaven, 
there is always 
second heaven. 
Don’t worry 

if you don’t see 
someone you love.
It’s just a matter of time 
before you catch up 
in one afterlife 
or another. 

Here’s something else 

I miss: my father asking me 
to pour him a drink -
this much 
Scotch 
and this much ice.
A little sting 
of liquor on my lips.

Soft blizzards watched 
from the window.

It seems mountains 
actually displace more of the sky, 
if you think about it.

​

Jeffrey Hermann's poetry and prose has appeared in Feral, Palette Poetry, Pank Magazine, trampset, The Shore, and other publications. Though less publicized, he finds his work as a father and husband to be rewarding beyond measure.

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