Accidental Breezes


What sudden rhetoric trembles at the door? I see clouds reflected in the gutter, but they’re still clouds. Having never shot a deer, I ride the hill like homeward ire. Out-paced, unpetaled, a boomerang of star fury: all my busted rigor. Whatever it is arranges itself for capture, the wormwood box, ghost of a chance. No one’s alone anymore. A name slides home, two words dashed to silly alchemy, a sun uncorked of glory. What little monster have I made, to favor love of all that’s said?


Elizabeth Willis

“Accidental Breezes”, from the book Meteoric Flowers, 2006

found on pg. 105 in the book Alive, new and selected poems, published by NYRB, 2015


About Michael Johnson

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