At noon a ghost begins threading darkness
through a needle’s eye then stitches it all
like a field sprouting on lightning, all blind
after the light. Raindrops chase every crow
across the holler. One of the crows believes
I’m a real ghost, the one who steals the sky
from its wings, the one jimmying doors
inside a cloud and walking off with its wings.
I paint its wings blue and red. I paint its feathers
like needles. The light pours in like storms
jostling the crow’s voice deep into my own.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 4.
Clyde Kessler lives in Radford, Virginia with his wife Kendall and their son Alan. Several years ago they added an art studio to their home and named it Towhee Hill. In 2017 Cedar Creek published his book of poems, Fiddling At Midnight’s Farmhouse, which Kendall illustrated.
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