____________________________________________________________________

With other notable work by Lukas Guard and Allison Boyd.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Caleb Coy-

PILGRIM

This pilgrim, like all pilgrims,
Like all grasping lunatics and unexceptionals
Finds it difficult for you to accept me.
Old Hat, New man, all that.

My tail is writhing at the faintest glimmer of your perfection.
You pulled back the curtain
And supped with a stranger.

In addition to the gift, I beg you go with me.
I am made of sensitive material now
But I’m straining to train myself.

Blood leaves the body red, and then goes rusty with age.
People want to know how and when they will die.
I ask how and when they will live.
The pilgrim is dead. Long live the pilgrim.

_______________

CONTOURS

You’ve traversed the straights, the belly of the beast
Been dumbfounded by instinct, by agony, you’ve
Been Suppressed, you’ve buckled under pressure.

Have you seen the shape of things?
Are you as malleable as you seem?
Could I preserve you like taxidermy?

Following the precedence of your form
Even the ashes of you would fit well
The contours of an urn.

_______________

HAPPY HOUR

We are living, we have an itch to scratch
This is why you put on your face before going out
Before going to and fro, here and there, out for a good time
Relieving ourselves of the agony of waiting for a good time.

You are a mirror I learn myself in
This moment is an opportunity
Optimist and pessimist, believer and fearer
It is I who decided to call you up.

Welders wear their masks in the sparks
So must we, together, calculated
Wounded together, to have a moment
And reverse it, until last time we met.

Waiting for a spine-shattering breakthrough
|I absolve your vices, I indulge in your virtues
I refuse to hear from you any lamentations
The atmosphere will have our focused attention.

You are beautiful in that dress, in this place, at this hour
I feel wedded to this hour, we could die in this hour
The weight of the day is a letter to us
Blown away on that napkin just now.

Our visage will alter for the better
In tomorrow’s glory, so let us adjust
The taste of life accordingly
Let us not hide our scar tissue.

In this light, at this table, at this hour
And in that dress. In. That. Dress.
You are transubstantiated to the you I will know forever
Sitting here with you, at Happy Hour.

Sitting here with you, at Happy Hour
We are two parts in a theater scene
And we will soon be in a boat
Sailing to our next alibi.

____________________________________________________________________

Caleb Coy holds an MA. in English from Virginia Tech. He lives in Christiansburg, VA with his wife and son, and teaches English in the town of Narrows. Caleb has been previously published in Geez Magazine, Brain of Forgetting, and Haiku. His debut novel, An Authentic Derivative, was self-published in 2015.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lukas Guard-

Mario’s Cinquain

Dirt road
Treadwheel pattern
Pushing the pedals down
Rubber stencils rolling up hill
Make art

_______________

Mario’s Pantoum

A long bike up the countryside
Just to deliver the mail
But I want so much more in return
To learn how to tell about my countryside ride

Just to deliver the mail
I ask for so much more
To learn how to tell about my countryside ride
Through metaphor and rhyme

I ask for so much more
To show her how I feel
Through metaphor and rhyme
I deliver her so much more

_______________

Mario’s Villanelle

I went fishing with my father
We caught nothing
And I threw up

He doesn’t speak much
But when he does, he says I need to work
I went fishing with my father

I tell him I hate just think about fishing
So, he told me a story about fishing
And I threw up

I met the beautiful Beatrice today
But had no money to impress her
I went fishing with my father

I bought her a gift and wrote her a poem
I opened my mouth to read to her
And I threw up

Beatrice won’t see me anymore
And I no longer have anything to live for
I went fishing with my father
And I threw up

____________________________________________________________________

Lukas Guard is a youth minister and homeschool instructor, and is in the process of completing a Masters degree in counseling. He enjoys reading, writing, listening to really good stories, and teaching young people. He lives in Lakeland, TN with his wife, Ashton, and newborn son, Hudson.
Lukas credits his brother, grandfather, an Italian postman, and a pony-tailed bearded writing teacher for inspiring him to write.
The above submission was inspired by Michael Radford and Massimo Troisi’s film, Il Postino: The Postman.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Allison Boyd-

Sunrise #135

A lavender sky looms over a lake. The half-moon’s still out. Twilight retreats east, affronted by the garish green of grass trapped under artificial light.

At six, through the mist, a red fox.

_______________

Sunrise #137

Dawn is a soft, weighted, faultless hello (the way-crossing you both could feel coming) from over great distance. At noon, we’re miles closer, with all secrets told. No one looks straight into the thing so forbiddingly fiery and high; no one whispers.

_______________

Sunrise #146

One swath of the still sky is lavender. Geese from the far pond, far because we cannot see it from here, bellow, air pumping from the goose abdomen, out the goose throat. I hear the far traffic—far because its roaring is muted by damp air and by its own sparsity. Each standing thing, entering light, gains its own shadow.

____________________________________________________________________

Allison Boyd Justus grew up in the shadow of Ben Lomand Mountain in Warren County, Tennessee. She doesn’t live there anymore, but some of her poems do. Allison’s writing can be found in electronic and print publications, including Madcap ReviewEunoia ReviewQuailBell, and Calliope. The collection Solstice to Solstice to Solstice is forthcoming from Alternating Current Press.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Advertisements