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John Sibley Williams (3 poems)

Benediction

          —for Kaveh Akbar

 

 

Graceless. No, so much less than that.

 

 

The physicality of the soul sours what

little we take away from a church bell’s

ritual. Iron & echo. The songbird pressing

circles into its hollow to shape a nest no

mouths will hunger from. Hunger or shriek.  

Like a fabric, the fabric of morning tears

too easily to call it mercy. Or home. Shot

through with light the loose gravel we

shoot at the roosting sparrows. We never

seem as broken as that, do we? Lives not

 

 

forgeries so much as too-little-at-stake.

Tenancy

Lights across the river.

Entire cities of them

blinking in & back out

of existence. Night-

swallowed;

 

                         as if life

 

depends upon seeing life

fade in others.

 

                         Competition:

 

There’s only so much darkness

to go around.

 

                        Compensation:

 

our pupils dilate to take it all in.

 

                         Gods:

 

pronouned to fit what we hope

to see on the other shore.

 

Shores hung together by fog

& pure stubbornness.

 

Tonight, like a mouth closing;

just chewed-over memories

 

                         between us

 

bright as we can make them,

briefly & brightly, & merciful.

Ligature

                  Missing 19-year-old student feared victim of sex trafficking

                                  —The Independent headline, 11/8/17

 

 

Before we know what our bodies are worth

or for, someone comes along to teach us.

Rifled through, edges torn, discarded

 

like old photos of family gone strange,

disremembered. Like the lost youth

in every mirror. There is a white

 

windowless van inside every heart.

A show of force multiplied by desire,

privilege. Isn’t that how we know we’re men?

 

This part of you that hasn’t yet a name,

I will name. The parts you never knew

could bleed, will. I promise it

 

won’t be so different than the first time.

Just more so. More so. Every body’s born

a repository for another body’s flame.

John Sibley Williams is the author of As One Fire Consumes Another(Orison Poetry Prize, 2019), Skin Memory(Backwaters Prize, University of Nebraska Press, 2019), Summon(JuxtaProse Chapbook Prize, 2019), Disinheritance, and Controlled Hallucinations. A nineteen-time Pushcart nominee, John is the winner of numerous awards, including the Wabash Prize for Poetry, Philip Booth Award, American Literary Review Poetry Contest, Laux/Millar Prize, Phyllis Smart-Young Prize, Janet B. McCabe Poetry Prize, and others. He serves as editor of The Inflectionist Review and works as a poetry editor and literary agent. Previous publishing credits include: The Yale Review, Midwest QuarterlySouthern ReviewSycamore ReviewPrairie SchoonerThe Massachusetts Review,Poet LoreSaranac ReviewAtlanta ReviewTriQuarterlyColumbia Poetry ReviewMid-American ReviewPoetry Northwest, Third Coast, and various anthologies. He lives in Portland, Oregon. 

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