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 Salamander, Ocean State Review, Rain 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.