Poetry by Jeff Santosuosso

Swan

From a board, a platform, or a ledge,
step carefully. Deliberate. Lift off.
Leap to the bottoms of the clouds.
Reach your fingers toward the sky.


Step carefully, deliberate, lift off
your cares and trepidations.
Reach your fingers toward the sky.
Point your toes to the bottom of the sea.


Your cares and trepidations
release off the wingtips of your arms.
Point your toes to the bottom of the sea
to slice the water as thin as water itself.

Release the wingtips of your arms.
Open yourself to the sky
to slice the water as thin as water itself.
Bare yourself to the sea, to nature.


Open yourself to the sky.
Reach out, touch down.
Bare yourself to the sea, to nature
as you descend, muscular, rippling.


Reach out, touch down
taut fibers connecting sky and sea
as you descend, muscular, rippling
to what informs you as subject, object.
Bare yourself to the sea, to nature.

I Am Here

Men jump from the sky
Men shoot toddlers dead
Men rape their sisters
work three jobs, sleep three hours
I am here.

Men stand in the rain,
run from the hail
scorch the land with fire and chemicals
I am here.

My circle has shrunk
so few intersections
It’s all news, not even paper
far-off reports in a far-out medium
where my life no longer goes
I am here.

I see the moon, I see the horizon
I feel the sun warm the sky.
There are there, aren’t they?
I am here.

What black hole beams this way
what comet tail trails my heavens
what lava flows, burns, cools, becomes rock,
a black, sharp path where once was footfall
I am here.

Winds beckon the dawn of life,
emissaries from ages ago
this strange circling forth
we call it hurricane, tornado
minutes, hours, days long, then normalized
I am here.

 

 

 

About the contributor

Jeff Santosuosso is an award-winning poet from Pensacola, FL. His chapbook Body of Water is from Clare Songbirds Publishing House. Jeff’s work was nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Comstock Review, The Lake (UK) among others.

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