What follows, I bequeath by Terrance Brown

Terrance Brown | January 17th, 2018 | poetry | No Comments


As if to say, what days
do we drag behind us,
which shadows inherit our silences

Ask me a question,
I’ll drag an answer
from the dust on my heels.

Sparking a spiel from flint
in the dark won’t bring dawn,
you can’t assume a bloodline
into the space between your teeth

& If we are to inherit
a new sun,
& everything left
not East
is eclipsed by us
then is everything West right
in the past?

Which would mean we
are constantly in motion
forging our new shadows
from our current limbs,
leaving glistening rights
to seeds that grow
from comfortable silences

There is nothing new under the sun.
Renewal is ancient in time,
correction; footnote in every line.

Poet Bio

Terrance Brown

23 by way of St. Louis Missouri,
previously published in Bellerive’s Sonder, wusgoodblack.com, issue 3 of Bad Jacket, poetrypotion.com & the site BrooklynButtah.com.

A pacifist deciphering the mathematics of a war time society.
Bred from scribbles on the tabletops in your local schoolery.

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