The
Past
by James
Owens
Refugees from
that doomed country, we huddle
around a few
smuggled objets d’art:
Grandfather’s
insistence on his old-fashioned razor,
that day flying
kites on the sea cliffs,
baths together
when we were newlyweds,
meaning the
bronze curve of hips,
at last a loss
of control.
Now, a
breathing world whispers each day
burned into the
waves. We grasp the tension
between
contempt for causality and love of form,
the suave
gradient toward chaos.
Sunsets beat a
long pulse at our wrists,
the warm
rocking that landed us here.
The moon comes
shimmering, that brilliant scar.
Bio: James Owens's most recent collection of poems is Mortalia, from FutureCycle Press. His poems, stories, translations,
and photographs have appeared in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Poetry Ireland
Review, Superstition Review, Kestrel, and The Stinging Fly, among others. He
lives in Wabash, Indiana.