by Steve Klepetar
And so the days are leaving,
at least the light, which used
to linger, shimmering in the pond
you walked upon, gently, careful
as an ancient god who knew
and feared the power of water
stirred to trouble by a careless foot.
Such breathing then, in the warmth
of summer reeds, fish breaking
the surface with a kind of sigh,
splashes that tickled willow
branches bending in their easy prayers.
Harder to walk now in the roar
of trucks which breed their own
wind. Even the last footpath
leads to a highway now, oaks
and maples barely masking
a roar like waves against rock,
thin green curtain against endless
strips of stores selling tires or worse:
the salty food of sailors forced back to land.
Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, including three in 2014. Three collections appeared in 2013: Speaking to the Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications), Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski, mgv2>publishing), and My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press). An e-chapbook, Return of the Bride of Frankenstein, came out in 2014 as part of the Barometric Pressures series of e-chapbooks by Kind of a Hurricane Press.