by Robert Krut
This is where birds lift
just below the sun, eyelids
in their beaks, stitching a blanket
to blink the light.
Tonight, the palm trees don’t lilt
from wind, but exhaustion.
I don’t remember getting the tattoo
of your life story across my back,
but it’s there, it’s there,
and all I wanted to do was show you.
Fronds dive to the pavement at sight
of the approaching clouds,
make wings around us.
You brushed aside a strand of hair,
whispered a secret
before I could.
I said, it’s raining,
and you said, those are stones.
From This is the Ocean, forthcoming from Bona Fide Books in 2013.
About the Poet
Robert Krut is the author of The Spider Sermons (BlazeVox, 2009). His poems have appeared in The Cimarron Review, Blackbird, The Mid-American Review, Smartish Pace, Vinyl, Barrow Street, NAP, Natural Bridge, Radioactive Moat, The Bakery, and more. A chapbook, Theory of the Walking Big Bang, was published by H-ngm-n Books in 2007; subsequently, he began serving as an Associate Editor for the journal/press. He teaches at the University of California, Santa Barbara in the Writing Program and College of Creative Studies.