S.J. Brooks
And so I wade out again
Into the tides of winter’s grass
Automobiles humming to the West
I sit in twilight, shooting for anything but aimless.
Far away, at Appalachia’s foot,
The sun is gone in my father’s land,
The bare limbs of his trees drip
Night comes on.
Here, now, in east Texas,
The faintest yellow still lingers
In cloudless sky
Night turns day.
You were once a child, and
I have almost forgotten my name.
So let us come together—
The wind is cooling,
And before long
All will be silent.
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SJ Brooks’ is a graduate of the MFA program at Arizona. More of his work can be found online in in Pindeldyboz, Eclectica Magazine, and Stickman Review. For more of his work visit his blog Skeleton Music.
