I want my heart hung from that blessed hook yonder, tugged until the hungry blood bucket fills and fires warmest thoughts of you wrap my arms around life and wonder where the words come from, why the slaughter of innocents does not stop. When thighs that touch in rhythmic motion die. How truths are torn from the starry night.
Michael Kleiza has new poems in Anthropology and Humanism. Other publications: Another Chicago Magazine, Rat's Ass Review and FrogPond. He is an alumnus of Banff School for Arts and Creativity and Page as Tapestry Conference (Tupelo Press). His first book of poetry is entitled A Poet on the Moon (Vocamus 2015). Twitter: @Keatsis1