ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Rachel Bunting lives and writes near the Pine Barrens of South Jersey. Her poems have previously been published in [PANK], Muzzle Magazine, Linebreak, and The Nervous Breakdown. She returns to poetry after a four-year hiatus, during which she spent an inordinate amount of time getting lost and found again in the woods.
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
Manifest
I remember that incredible night with the maps
when we gathered under the tallest pine tree,
sticks in hand, and traced out pathways in the sand.
You said we could map anything we ever wanted
to know: the fastest route to the ocean. The location
of every wild mushroom in Canada. How to heal
a broken heart in three easy steps (walking backwards
is the key). When the moon was highest in the sky,
you cocked your head and said something is moving
to the west. A fox with a bright tail grasping four-leaf
clovers in its teeth skittered out of the trees, then back
again. I’m taking all of the life out of the city, you said,
and a grid of skyscrapers appeared at your feet, briefly
lighting the sand before fading out again. The air crept
and shook with sudden smoke — next I’m going to take
all of the life out of the sky — and the night was darker.
I listened to the sounds of forest and dragged a stick
across the ground. Everything we see is dust.
The first line of this poem is a slight variation on a statement that President Trump made at the 2017 National Scout Jamboree. I wanted to try to make something beautiful out of something unsettling.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
