A Lean-to at the End of the Galaxy

You fire a fiction deep into my brain
By the dishwasher door gaping to accept
This evening’s dirtied plates.
It detonates.

I am unrecognizable to myself
As I am unknown to you
And the shockwave from the wordblast
Drives out all other sound.

I’ve often written myself a place,
Out back, in the scrap woods,
Among devoured pines
And slack pools red with leaf rot

But I have no home
Among the otters’ dens
Littered with the leavings
Of their frigid dinners.

Although it’s colder there
There’s time to build
A shelter out of limbs and sticks
Through which the wind can come from outer space

And brush my scrambled face.
The stove clock ticks its way
Toward zero. I must be careful
Through the tripwires.

Moonlight slips a floor of glass
Between the doorway and the bed
And when I walk on it
It cracks.

 

 

Jonathan Weinert is the author of In the Mode of Disappearance, winner of the Nightboat Poetry Prize, and Thirteen Small Apostrophes, a chapbook. He is co-editor, with Kevin Prufer, of Until Everything Is Continuous Again: American Poets on the Recent Work of W.S. Merwin. Jonathan has received fellowships from the Ucross Foundation, the Massachusetts Cultural Council, and Caldera Arts. He won the Copper Nickel Editor’s Prize in Fall 2015. Recent work appears, or will soon appear, in Pangyrus, The Louisville Review, The Southwest Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, The Massachusetts Review, and elsewhere.

 

 

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