Tom Brush

Today I’ll start with what’s in front of me, there, just outside
The window, the sidewalk littered with the tongues
Of ginko leaves, sunlight
Skating across the soundless sky, the gargoyles
Peering down from the clouds.
Because, I have a few things
Left to say, a few things left to do, trying to forget
The news that’s not news
At all, but scalding hate, and lies.
            Think of the world we could have,
Bright and alive as a wish, holding
A scroll of something sacred, something that will last
As long as the warmth of the blood
You thought you’d lost
But you haven’t. And isn’t it time
To let the animals enter the myth
As they once did? Let’s accept it as wisdom. Let them rise
From the straw beds and comfort us, let the ancient story cut the cold
Air, where you’ll hear someone say
Good Morning, Good Night, Be Safe,
Be Well.

Tom Brush has published in Poetry, Poetry Northwest, The North American Review, The Cimarron Review, Prairie Schooner, Tar Review Poetry, The Indiana Review and other magazines and anthologies. He has been awarded a NEA grant, two NEH grants, and fellowships from Artist Trust and the Washington State Arts Commission. His latest books, from Lynx House Press, include, God’s Laughter, 2018, Open Heart, 2015, and Last Night, winner of the Blue Lynx Prize, in 2012.

Read Tom Brush on “Open Books” (from Issue 3).


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