Poetry

April 4, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Dayne Topkin photo

 

By

W. Luther Jett

 

 

 

Spinning

 

(After Charlottesville, August 2017)

 

 

In a moment you

hang suspended

in mid-air before

the inevitable grind

of asphalt against

flesh — Consider

what it took

to reach this

instant. Here

the world spun

upside-down. It is

as if a bad dream

ensnared you, waking

to another dream

and then another until

you recognize

your situation with

a jolt and waken cold,

drenched in sweat.

You are not

dreaming, you are

not.

 

That car

 

didn’t drive itself.

 

 

 

 

Dreamers

 

 

In the forever of

space between sharp

inhalation and

exhaust — with snow

crusting round our

rag-wrapped feet

and without

further alternative —

we crane upward past

the burnished dome,

past the sentinel there,

and reach

for an un-named light.

 

Here

I can stand no other

 

Where.

 

 

 

 

 

W. Luther Jett

I am a native of Montgomery County, Maryland. My poetry has been published in numerous journals, including The GW Review, ABRAXAS, Beltway, Innisfree, Potomac Review, Little Patuxent Review, and Main Street Rag. My poetry performance piece, Flying to America, debuted at the 2009 Capital Fringe Festival in Washington D.C. My chapbook, “Not Quite: Poems Written in search of My Father” was released by Finishing Line press in the fall of 2015.

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1 Comment

  1. Patricia Hatch April 04, at 15:04

    W. Luther Jett's poetry jolts me in a shockingly calm manner. I enjoy his poetry.

    Reply

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