December 2019
By Edwin Wentworth
The first birds of your morning are
Singing in the trees as
Your cars go slushing by on the road.
Through the window I watch myself
Crawling on my knees to Jerusalem
Singing in the trees as
Your cars go slushing by on the road.
Through the window I watch myself
Crawling on my knees to Jerusalem
As I walk through this empty house
Your absence is like arson.
I keep slipping on pages of poetry you’ve left
Lying around,
A fire hazard.
I think when I reach the holy city
I will probably burn that down too.
Sometimes it seems like all my hands know how to do
Is light matches,
And throw them at something beautiful.
Edwin Wentworth is a queer poet who hails from Toronto, Ontario. Their biggest aspiration is to become a Victorian-style portrait hung on the wall of a farmhouse in the American Midwest. They have been published in Soliloquies Anthology (Concordia University, 2017) and various online blogs and periodicals.