Even death is just a concept
we put on the bare facts of things.
Alluvium and sunlight,
names for the annealing world,
the dough that turns into bread.
I forfeit opinions because
I want the startled wings without
the assumption of the bird.
In the forest, I’m simply dazzled.
My heart may hurt, but I won’t be caught
in its titular magic.
I’m a green ache in a green wood.
There’s a little wind over there,
a pool of black water,
someone getting lost
in the high grasses.
The weight we carry is made up
mostly of imagination
and a couple pieces of the past.
Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress. Their work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, Rust+Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. Their full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018