Metal and Glass

Issue 6 | Summer 2021 |



In the milky glass of sleep,
you dream of leading students

on a field trip to a place
you have no earthly idea

how to find. The memory’s
metal barbs scrape

the delicate skin of morning.
What I want to tell you

is as upright and true as the white
cosmos in the front garden.

Their feathered stalks lean
into October wind, rain

coating the veins of blooms,
a thin platinum sheen.

Hear me: no one
ever knows anything

for sure. Every single
thing you’ve learned is your car

teetering on a mountain two-
lane, no shoulder,

a flatbed barreling toward you
targeting the windshield’s glare.