11/26/2017 Poetry by Steve KlepetarNeal Wellons - CC Braying at the Moon You could stand here forever, braying at the moon. Or so it seems, when night and moonlight freeze on the lake and time disappears. Across the hills, wolves moan. Their voices paint shadows on the star-sprinkled sky. No wind. A weight of stillness, and you sink into yourself, recalling your blood as it pulses through your body, carrying light to your hungry brain. Staying Out All Night We walked to the river, climbed down beneath the bridge, listened to cars rush overhead, watched boat lights spread on the water. We sat on warm stones as they slowly cooled, and slowly in the darkness we came to ourselves. We spoke softly. Earth felt new in our fingers, smoky and raw. Fish splashed near the shore, the sound rich in our ears. All night we lingered in that velvet world, prowled the shore, lithe as cats, eyes glowing with the gentle light of stars. To Drown the Night We are tramping on streets far from home. Here we are, breathing humid air, bodies packed in close. Though we carry bold signs, we are terrified as we cross bridges toward the park. Dogs growl as we pass. Women watch us from their yards, faces pulled into shadow and mist. Everywhere, men with guns and clubs. This city sinks faster every year. After a hard rain, fish swim in puddles on streets near the shore. The city pushes out into wetlands. Tall buildings rise along the coast. Music pours from cafes, flags flutter in the wind. We step with our aching feet. Our throats burn, sunshine stabs our eyes. Here in this parade, we are bodies, we are clay. We are droplets in a sea, gathering to drown the night. ![]() Bio: Steve Klepetar lives in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. His work has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize, including four in 2016. Recent collections include Family Reunion (Big Table), A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press), and How Fascism Comes to America (Locofo Chaps). Comments are closed.
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