from Prodigy House

 

 

Even one more moonlit sky is too many to those whose labors take

place after the last light in a granary full of ravens. At my peril I ask

what it is that they do, & in response they sing supper. Instead of making

a word, they find themselves one—a ruin so properly hollow its empty

space fills with as many birds as possible.

 

Meanwhile, I make horoscopes for yews in the dark. I bet on the cosmos

like I bet on horses, laughing at the light until my margin’s called.

 

Like any victim of a mountebank, I am left penniless. The universe can have

whatever it wants claiming the barter was good, shepherd. But, I lost my quart

of stars, & I can’t shut up about it. 

 

 

Douglas Luman's poetry and prose has been published in magazines such as SalamanderOcean State ReviewRain Taxi, and Prelude. He is Production Director of Container, Art Director at Stillhouse Press, Head Researcher at appliedpoetics.org, a book designer, and digital human. His first book, The F Text, will be released in fall 2017 on Inside the Castle.

 

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