Lake St. Clair; or, Sweet Whirls Replaced in Passing
Meet me on thin ice,
where cold snaps are made
worthwhile,
where our rest
-less legs slip
political bounds,
our parading Jesus paradies
straddling two lands
with neither in sight, habited
by nature’s inhabitable nature, enrapt
in blizzardous apocalyptic beauty,
your puffy coat caught seam
-lessly in conversation
with judean winds,
kissing spindrift apostles
piloted along your auguring
pirouette, where I dive
under the shellacked
stratus of a breath
-less sky and bear
witness, our reverent
commitment to the bit
burbling on both sides
of this shallow limit
-lessness, where you fish
me out in five thousand filets
splayed over spidering
fissures, ready for whatever
desperate animal
dares to feast
upon my flesh.
Steven O. Young Jr. is knitted within the Great Lakes' mitten, where he earned an MA from Oakland University and occasionally slathers soundstages with his body weight's worth of paint. His latest literary homes include Sweet Lit, Progenitor, Vita Poetica, Kind Writers, and Rougarou.