by Carl Boon
I shall speak of blue flowers, Blake,
and graceless boys.
I shall watch you behind the glass
of a bar on Lexington
and pummel you with half-rhymes
and the certitude of God.
You’ll fall and I’ll make sure you rise
again, for you must
in this metropol of dragons and chance.
I am the chosen one,
your private savior, superstitious
and lean, lingering where
saints touch men and men cannot
believe. Look at me
and my enjambment, my glass-eyed
superpower. I’m fond of you—
I kiss your breasts as if they were
my own and tell you:
things grow, that’s the only miracle
there is on earth.
Carl Boon is the author of the full-length collection Places & Names: Poems (The Nasiona Press, 2019). His poems have appeared in many journals and magazines, including Prairie Schooner, Posit, and The Maine Review. He received his Ph.D. in Twentieth-Century American Literature from Ohio University in 2007, and currently lives in Izmir, Turkey, where he teaches courses in American culture and literature at Dokuz Eylül University.