Gloves

Clyde Kessler, poet and naturalist, lives in Radford, VA with his wife Kendall and their son Alan. Several years ago they added an art studio to their home and named it Towhee Hill. His latest book of poems, Fiddling at Midnight’s Farmhouse (Cedar Creek Publishing), was illustrated by his wife, Kendall Kessler.


Gloves

You reflect starlight from orbit,
and fear the drowsy air because
it seeps through your gloves, and
does not register enough to alarm,
does not follow you inside alone.

That one fact fails you as a story.
Sharp words swallow themselves.
Fig trees choke a royal palm snag
in a dream, and then bloom across
meteors that force no language
from their fires. It’s not like you
to space-walk through a jungle,
peeling those gloves off for heaven.

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