- Books, Literature, and Writing
Two New Poems
by Tom Hatcher
The night’s sky is eerily white,
from the distant lights
of the Capital, and the billowing
clouds framing the horizon,
which still carried those surly hues hidden
In the sunset, which faded hours ago.
The air is cool.
The wind could fill a glove. And
the humidity is slowly dropping from
a whole. Nobody, however seems to care.
Except a wandering girl and boy,
who sweep through the damp,
and make a pillow with their words by the
bubble and slurp of a creek, hidden by overgrown grass.
This night was a night for falling in love.
The things that were tangled together
to become their lives had no place here.
When he touched her, their bodies,
like a plus and a minus, connected,
charged. Pulsing through them.
His breath on her neck and his voice
in her ear. Their conversation slowed.
The sound of the night consumed them.
Bugs, however many there were, became
one sound, one force, a sphere holding
them afloat, as they became lost in the
darkness of their closed eyes, and sewed
their hearts together.
Steal that aesthetic
The sun, the moon, the stars.
We all can relate, plenty. What
I really want is the thing that truly
connects us. “The sun” can
be erased, as easily as “Yahweh”
—neither these will cease to exist—
neither have done much to
explain this glue set between us.