march

by Kevin A. Risner

A month that holds so much promise

held unease, fear, newfound isolation

just a few years ago.

I swear it happens so much more

often, the glance at an old photo,

the recollection of a trip. And here

I thought it happened

just a blink ago, and it’s been

a decade. Catch each radio

wave as it flies past.

A bit of sweat falls instantly

when I hear too much, think too much,

when I fear for the newborn ones

who will appear next March.

They’ll have no clue about a time when

we didn’t yearn for fresh air. 

Kevin A. Risner is the author of My Ear is a Sieve; Do Us a Favor; and You Thought This Was Just Gonna Be About Cleveland, Didn't You. His debut full-length, There's No Future Where We Don't Have Fire, is forthcoming from ELJ Editions. He also has work published in Gordon Square Review, The Great Lakes Review, Memoir Mixtapes, Moist Poetry Journal, The Ocean State Review, and elsewhere.