Among Clouds
By John Kuligowski
Out from the margins I fell,
confused my raft with wings
or an interment among the clouds.
In the context of a burial,
the day, as your face, anchored
me like dusk at the quick
of the horizon.
I had culled each of these insular
torments softly but with
no little calculation;
plucked their delicate lines,
the sea’s cat’s paw rhythm
cuffing my extended hand
in turn.
It is light unchecked, last breath,
a stamp of being at the flyblown
offing; a friendly nod
when the coral sun dips
its painted hull into memory.
For you I will wait with all
all these farouche phantasms
under a pavilion of stray thoughts.
If ever you reach my side,
kiss this empty canteen;
so softly touch this atomy.
John Kuligowski currently lives in the midwest. Some of his newer pieces
may be found in the January/February 2009 issue of Clockwise Cat.
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