I lose a brother & gain a memory a tooth cracks before splitting & I am gifted a phantom pain perhaps when I am older this all will escape my memory; maybe all I will feel is the reverberation of late-summer, late-night light-- neon fingers rounding the curvature of my cheeks or streetlights igniting the low-hanging limbs of oak trees & recalling each hand that left its gentle hues on my skin I wrinkle out a prayer to these close planets —that I will feel them when all else burns out
William Bortz (he/him) is a husband, poet, and editor living in Des Moines, IA. His work appears or is forthcoming in Okay Donkey, Oxidant Engine, Empty Mirror, Turnpike Magazine, Back Patio Press, and others. His book THE GRIEF WE'RE GIVEN will be published February of 2021.