By Jesse Miksic
Though I stiffen,
Morbidly corporeal,
I offer up a sigh —
And still I vie
For that paper-thin
Morning light,
An imprint for
A dragged body —
Why have I made
These barriers inside myself?
And as if in answer:
The coin, I think,
Spins evenly, though
One side always hides itself
The day has come,
Dreaming body,
Let's fall into
Her arms.
Jesse Miksic is a graphic designer and writer living in the suburbs of Philadelphia. He spends his life writing poetry, blazing new walking trails through the suburbs, and having adventures with his wonderful wife and two children. Recent placements include Green Ink Poetry, Pink Plastic House, Moist Poetry, and Roi Fainéant Literary Press.