poem ending with a sentence from Melissa Flores Anderson
by Jane Zwart
Our bodies don’t candle even a little.
It feels
like they should.
Think of the synapses struck
like matches inside these gourds we nod; think
of heartburn.
But only the breath heaved
out, sod house to cold night, will shine, a tinsel
veil that parts for us lumberers.
Somewhere
hidden in this reflection is a sliver of the moon.
Jane Zwart teaches at Calvin University, where she also co-directs the Calvin Center for Faith & Writing. Her poems have appeared in Poetry, The Southern Review, Threepenny Review, TriQuarterly, and Ploughshares, as well as other journals and magazines.
