the sunlight so yellow it is white highlights each
conifer like a canine. So sharp against the pale face
of sky. Barking away, all the mockingjays assume their stance
eyes cast down awaiting breakfast.
The brown latch of earth opens up like a gate,
walking through like an old friend, warmed by the firm
hand of sunlight on their backs, the worms stretch their heads.
In the glare of waking, there is no violence, there is no vendetta
there is only the opening of a mouth,
and the closing.
conifer like a canine. So sharp against the pale face
of sky. Barking away, all the mockingjays assume their stance
eyes cast down awaiting breakfast.
The brown latch of earth opens up like a gate,
walking through like an old friend, warmed by the firm
hand of sunlight on their backs, the worms stretch their heads.
In the glare of waking, there is no violence, there is no vendetta
there is only the opening of a mouth,
and the closing.
C.W. Bryan is a student at Georgia State University. He lives in Atlanta, GA where he writes poetry, nonfiction and short fiction. He is currently writing his weekly series, Poetry is Plagiarism, with Sam Kilkenny at poetryispretentious.com. His debut chapbook Celine was published with Bottlecap Press in 2023.
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