any good actor
will tell you
it’s not them
up there
but a kind
of wind
that throws
wide the door
they have spent
their whole lives
to crack an inch
this is what
I don’t say
when I say
lately the weather
is unreliable
or where is
the carrion bird
that would clatter
through me
nobody
ever enters
the red
heavy doors
of the church
on the corner
its gargoyles
have no spit
to spit in this
dry June
it’s hard to tell
if the wind blows
or if maybe
the door is not
enough ajar
I can feel
at my building’s
heart
the long empty
elevator shaft
and hear
the lonely cables
whistle into
the earth
does a soul still
wait for me
to speak it
this is what
I say
when I don’t
Quinn Franzen is an Oahu-raised, Brooklyn-based actor, poet, and new dad. He recently received his MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars, and has work published or forthcoming in Pleiades, Bear Review, Fugue, and Sonora Review.
Commentaires