Advertisement

Excerpting Senior Writers: Justin Wymer '12

Wymer reflects on writing his poetry thesis.

and everything is a wetness—and

the forehead feels the

sky permit it—Then

a reddish silence claps over everything—

moths drown in that well, their strong ligaments

Advertisement

dissolve into curs barking—

If I can protect you it can only be from

the blurts of knives—the spacious

licks of mauve—The dolls’ heads

that roll out of them and away

are not without eyes, no one has yet to

eat them—So I ask you to

lean in—Know the cold is just-done from

the bleached semen smell of chestnuts

blooming—clean splinterish light that threads

Tags

Advertisement