after Peter Gabriel, Solsbury Hill
A Man wearing oxblood boots followed his mooncast shadow up Solsbury Hill. Silence cowed the pulse of the system. He paused at the top as if a swan in February, winter unfinished. He looked out upon the constellation of city lights: maps of the imagination. They gleamed like interstellar dust. The man wearing oxblood boots found cold comfort in the world as is––little winterscape with teeth. He turned to invite his shadow back down the hill. But the shadow wavered as a cold cloud obscured the pearl light. “Come on,” said the man wearing oxblood boots, “I’ll take you home.”
Matthew Schultz (he/him) teaches Creative Writing at Vassar College where he also directs the Writing Center. He is the author of two novels: On Coventry and We, The Wanted. His recent poems have appeared in Rust + Moth, Thrush, and Juke Joint.