Michael Mercurio

THERE IS NEITHER WORLD NOR WINE ENOUGH

after the fires    fingers 

of water weep

in cinder-choked depths. 

Once again,     the gulf is not a gulf.

And while I walk past      the anxious river 
this wind insists      summer’s eye is closing; 
nectarines will grow     dry, with cryptic kernels
cracking their stones.    Then they disappear.

Bruises,            dirt-dark & corrupt,     
map the legacy of letting go

having found the flesh and known it. 

What time is sunset — 

nothing’s marked        on my watch-face.

Michael Mercurio lives and writes in Western Massachusetts. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in THRUSH, Palette Poetry, Bear Review, Sugar House Review, Rust + Moth, and elsewhere, and his poetry criticism has been published by the Lily Poetry Review and Coal Hill Review. Michael serves as Director of Community Engagement for the Faraday Publishing Company and is on the steering committee for the Tell It Slant Poetry Festival, held each September at Emily Dickinson’s house.