Unfolding Familiar Kindness

Dawn
by Darius Stewart

approaches like fingers finessing keys
of a baby grand

inside a pit of grief. Music,
a tragedy waging against the body—

like dahlias unfolding petals
in search of light

but failing to enter into that brightness.
So the body wounds. The heart

orders no affection for familiar kindness
as if this is the way to make sense

of the strangeness that is
the world, as if the world is the climax

and the orchestra enters
a fraction behind the beat.

—–

Darius Stewart was born in Knoxville, TN, in 1979. He holds degrees from The University of Tennessee and the Michener Center for Writers (a B.A. and an M.F.A., respectively). He has been previously anthologized in two volumes of The Southern Poetry Anthology series, The Best Gay Poetry 2008. He’s been published elsewhere in Callaloo, The Seattle Review, Meridian, and dozens of other journals. He has authored three chapbooks: The Terribly Beautiful (2006), Sotto Voce (2008) and The Ghost the Night Becomes (2014). He bartends for a living because it makes more money than teaching, and lives with two dogs: Fry (his) and Waffles (his housemate’s, who doesn’t think he’s an artist, but he is).

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Published by

hrholt1986

I am a dreamer, as well as a doer, who lives in the North Georgia mountains. I started my publishing journey August of 2013, have had moderate success, but my utmost passion is my "daytime" job, which is working with adults who are constantly striving to better their lives as they obtain the GED credential.

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