CJ Miles /Footnotes/

Footnotes

Ron Goldman’s modeling career. The day Jesus
Rose, shook the dirt from His shins and
Took a bath: a pale or dirty bath water
Poured through a Brita Pitcher.
A cigarette in a diner, a stretch across
The Atlantic, an island howling,
Amelia, where did your plane go?
The first bomb was never dropped, it tripped.
An orange jumpsuit calls passion collect,
But no one answers to accept the charges.
A hotel balcony shakes under a thunderstorm
While a cross whispers, Let me live or let me live.
Love does just that. Yetis are born blurry.
Specs of light stay stuck frozen in night.
It’s frightening how most of what shines
Is already dead: souls lost in still light,
Desperate to find its way home.

 


 

C.J. Miles lives in Iowa with his wife. His poetry has appeared in Forklift, Ohio; Cease, Cows; (b)OINK zine; Amaryllis; Gravel; and Unbroken Journal. More of his work can be found online at https://cjmilespoet.wordpress.com/. Follow him on Twitter at @cjmilespoet.

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