Poetry

THE LIGHT THAT FOUND OUR FLESH

Photo courtesy of Colette LaBouff.

The rain was righteous and godless,
and when together, in a room during such rain,

our concerns took on the disposition
of a purse full of shattered glass.

How is a person supposed to live regularly
in the world with the particulars of a lover’s

bare body making for years a tide the mind?
Time, when the two of us were near, disassembled,

and the light that found our flesh was a sentence said
by a voice seeming vaster for being anonymous.

Marcus Jackson is the author of the poetry collections Pardon My Heart and Neighborhood Register, and he teaches in the MFA programs at Ohio State and Queens University of Charlotte.
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