A little over a year ago, I began exchanging letters with Marcus, an outstanding human being who is currently serving time in solitary confinement. After discovering our mutual love of poetry, we decided to embark on a joint poem. I wrote a verse, mailed it to Marcus, who returned with a verse: this process continued for over three months, culminating in the poem below.

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I sit in the center of the field

And wait for winter to make a widow

Out of me. The snow, bitten black,

Stirs underneath the horses’ heavy breathing.

          (May 5, 2018)

 

I mount up as the sunrise, unable to escape winter’s fate.

Torn as my wife’s tears smile upon the fabric of my shell;

With reality kissing winter goodbye, our legacy remains,

For spring has birthed our reflection.

          (May 15, 2018)

 

Their hooves, primordial,

fissure the earth. Half-healed scars

the beetles fall into

 

Like a trap. The seeds

They brush from their hair

Harden into the pebbles

 

I place on my tongue

When you ask me

My son’s name.

          (June 17, 2018)

 

As every step of this stallion grows closer to heaven,

Angels listen to my tears singing in the rain,

It sounds like peace dancing with joy on a stage in hell,

Yet I refuse to beg for my wings,

As long as my son has the strength to look into the sky

          (July 2, 2018)

 

How often we choose not to stop ourselves

In moments of pain:

The body weeping itself into bloom-call it ache-

My son sprinting through the woods

his breath lost everywhere around him-call it God.

          (July 21, 2018)

 

While fleeing from pain and chasing change,

My son has found direction,

Silently approaching his insecurities and accepting his flaws

His mirror birth God’s perfection.

          (August 5, 2018)

 

The stars faithful to the moment

You pour water over his zodiac hair

The way a father would do it,

Believing the body out of itself.

          (August 28th, 2018)

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