Poetry

Mover

by Liam Hastings

A poem from the Fall 2019 issue.

What moves
Like a wave
That drills
Spinning to nowhere

You’re picking
At architecture
And it’s how
Hole like a scab

I don’t know
How it fits
But each
Word is like
Another wrapper,
Evidence that we ate

You who must
And who does
Examine its
Odd pilings
On the floor

I can see
One way to make it whole

Heal the scabby
Hole from which
It all falls
Perspective is healing
Now let’s make
A trade with the
God beyond
The periphery
The god behind my head!