Poem by Michael Cooper
[This poem has a layout that cannot be rendered properly here. To view the poem as intended, click here for the PDF.]
give up the star sky for the comfort
of vaulted ceiling fan, spin
the sweet saw sound and vagrant —
your knee invades my spine dressed
in rag picker’s flannel
of our arms always useless Skeleton
of your body next to mine — twin
picket fences that lay their guard down
slowly — the wheat
climbs over, gossips;
the night star smiles open where
our brows meet — and you, dreaming,
each of us a pulse, a thumb
print in a
thousand untranslatable Polaroids —
by this dark room.
The 2015 Luminaire Award for Best Poetry
We are pleased to announce this poem as a finalist for the 2015 Luminaire Award for Best Poetry, honoring the independent press’ best poems and hybrid works of the year. The winners are selected by an external panel that judges all pieces blind and chooses the full list of 12 finalists from hundreds of entries. Alternating Current does not determine the final outcome for the judging; the external judges’ decisions are final.
MICHAEL COOPER is an Inland Empire poet, PoetrIE member, MFA student, Veteran, and father of two great sons: Markus & Jonathan. His work is in Tin Cannon, The Pacific Review, The Chaffey Review, The Camel Saloon, The Los Angeles Review, H_NGM_N, The Berkeley Review, The Portland Review, and other fine (but wild) publications. Michael would like to make you aware that the splash zone includes the first 11 rows.
Originally published on 5/13/15.