We Are Nowhere & It’s Now
My strands of hair are little antennas.
I can tune into the signals,
let the channel flow through me; I stir
my reflection in the bubbles
that pool together in the periphery
of my coffee mug—there is so much
to listen in for. Nowhere are we
absent in living: this forever,
then some. We can fit infinity
within an inch, then some. Rope taps
the flag pole—resonant—
to a tempo set in dust. A howl
picks up, pushes these torn-out pages
to the floor. The hinges creak;
doors moan as they open themselves.
Foliage sounds of light rain,
the beating wings of a hummingbird
standing still. This is nothing
new; these are not my words. A coyote
leaves her tracks where the mesas
spread open. Twilight slips into
an arroyo. It’s out there. I promise.
What it is? I couldn’t tell. Not because
of secrecy but of breadth. I call out
a name, but the only reception is my voice
rolling back along the canyon walls.
Justin Groppuso-Cook‘s poetry is forthcoming in The Tiger Moth Review, Haunted Waters Press, and Luna Luna Magazine. He received a Pushcart Prize nomination for his work in Duende. In 2022, he will be a resident at Carve Magazine’s Writing Workshops Paris. More information can be found on his website, www.sunnimani.com.
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