Home PageArchivesVolume no. 3Issue 3Poetry: Weidner

from Jesse James

Kevin Weidner

I feel him not far off, dear

the light’s unsettled
like a song
                  (even the moonlight is blinding)

the winds are changing
the winds pick the branches like steel strings

          there the owl
          there the crescendo of hooves

I feel him not far off
like the bringer of seasons

a blade of lightning for each body in the stand

the dark rider, the light falters like late fallen snow

as much as I want to hear you
I don’t, dear

I want a messiah
with sunflower eyes
a monarch in the throat

I feel him not far off
in the dogwood blooms

          the dark center of petals
          where the shadows pupil

when I look away from the sun
everything is absent light

the light falters

I feel him not far off
and what can I do now

think how many he’s sent to grave
early and unexpected
he’s not far off
and when he comes as a lone figure in the dark
or a lone man in the swelter
what can I do but go
as have so many
into the sucked-in center of his barrel

the singular gravity of what’s been pulling me


from Jesse James

Kevin Weidner

lately rooms are not to be entered
but backed into
                       my home no longer
a nest in the canopy

a cave where
the wounded go to die
it is said
               a mother won’t return
if she smells a human touch

a white tail at the first
downwind scent

the grasses to a secret
      meeting of blackbirds

lately memory is a room
to be run from
                             in the clearing
             an upward scatterstorm

Kevin Weidner hails from Missouri and currently lives in Tuscaloosa, where he is pursuing an MFA in creative writing at the University of Alabama. His work has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, storySouth, Midwestern Gothic, PANK, and elsewhere. He edits the online journal 751 Magazine.

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