I Came to You

A Poem by Barry Yeoman

I came to you
rushed for comfort
detained for days
against a gray quilt
of clouds.

I came
discussing the ruptured rivers
the drowned cliffs,
the attempts to exorcise
the overgrown shadows
of the plaster faces,
the empty dunes of breath
the same dust-strewn passages.

If we could God
and glee the whole sky down
would we rest
upon angelic grasses
beside the stone-spotted lake
where the furrows of water
surface to an opening
waiting for a glint of moon?
Would we still be lost?
What would change?

If we met,
in the cool shelter
of scattered fog
behind the deep anesthetized
crater of that lake,
could we still dream together?

Why do we insist upon
contemplating the bare trees
stretched like exposed roots
toward the craggy skies?

We fell for the empty season
hungrily, inharmoniously
unable to lose ourselves
where the sparrows gather
asking ourselves together:

how might we grow
into the next season,
the turned-down sun
unaffected, squinting fiercely
between the black hills
and the inevitable night?

Barry Yeoman was educated at Bowling Green State Univ., The Univ. of Cincinnati, and The McGregor School of Antioch Univ., in creative writing, world classics, and the humanities. He is originally from Springfield, Ohio and currently lives in London, Ohio. His work has appeared, or is forthcoming in Vagabonds Anthology, Common Ground Review, Danse Macabre, Harbinger AsylumLost Coast Review, Crack the Spine, Burningword Literary Journal, Gravel, Broad River Review, Soundings Review and The Rusty Nail, among others. You can read more of his published work at www.redfez.net/member/1168/artist

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