by Liam Hastings

A poem from the Fall 2019 issue.

by Liam Hastings | Poetry | Fall 2019

Photo by Vu M. Nguyen 

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!