Luther Hughes’ works have been published or are forthcoming in TriQuarterly, The Journal, BOAAT, Columbia Poetry Review, and others.
AS THE FOG ROLLS IN, NIGHT FINDS ITS FOOTING by Luther Hughes
Friday, 23 March 2018
What’s that story about the blackbird
visiting a man, or, more accurately,
his depression? Making him recognize it,
I mean. It was often like that
with birds, reminding you of your flightlessness.
It was like that, then more so, then only that.
I’m doing as much as I can these days
despite thinking about what ails me—
going on walks, slipping into bathroom stalls
with strange men who become not-so-strange
when they pull down their pants—without wanting more
from absence, if a thing can even be considered absent
not having been there to begin with.
If not a blackbird, something that was blackened
by blackness, with an animal understanding,
was in his room. Above. It had wings. No, it didn’t.
- Published in Issue 13, Uncategorized