This poem was selected as a finalist for the 2021 MAYDAY Poetry Prize and nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
The older you get, the less likely
someone will want to see you naked.
Stretch less. Don’t give into the desire
to stroll through walls because
it’s a long fall to the earth’s core.
Remember that everything puckers
out of nothing, which is God.
Leave a folding chair in your heart
should you chance upon a corgi,
a foghorn, an oak sleeping on its side.
You can’t heal if the knife’s still in.
There are worse crimes than tattoos
on the underside of a raindrop.
Frankly, I think you’re the shit
that grows flowers. If you can,
seek reincarnation as a telescope
so that wherever they turn you,
you’ll feel light kissing you back.
MICHAEL MEYERHOFER‘s fifth poetry book, Ragged Eden, was published by Glass Lyre Press. He has been the recipient of the James Wright Poetry Award, the Liam Rector First Book Award, the Brick Road Poetry Book Prize, and other honors. His work has appeared in many journals including Hayden’s Ferry, Rattle, Brevity, Tupelo Quarterly, and Ploughshares. He is also the author of a fantasy series and the Poetry Editor of Atticus Review. For more information and an embarrassing childhood photo, visit www.troublewithhammers.com.