Joshua Marie Wilkinson
The Easement
Toy wolves glare from the bushes
& whoso staggers loose
from the rocks with
a good glow from the
beforelife. I’m seeking
your advice, set against
music as I am,
set up against monsters
as I’ve found in the stars
no friend, the lake
no brother, the current
no story to live with.
The Easement
All the lamps were turned low
& they’d mistaken the plagiary
for a forgery, set it
at the sill for the moths
to find in the night
where the babies
slept in amongst shades.
The Easement
In the raw distance a night of birds rose
& I found my bed in the alley
where they’d climbed from
my dream to lower it under
& among the branches of
the mesquite aflame, volunteering—
irrigated with fat blades
of fire—to a glass of water
now here at the lips I
like watching you drink.
The Easement
Sleep won’t come, but things grow heavier.
The wet sheets, clean
& drawing with their brightness
the moths to the glow
placed on a window.
My lamp alive too
reading what I can of
Ceravolo’s moon, Bunting’s
Persia before I drift
in & hit the middle of night
hard, thirsting,&
drink Jess’s water.
