Two Poems - Jacobs

 

 

Tyler Jacobs

WHITE LILIES    

There are enough cut flowers

on the kitchen counter and table

to make a man. A man is

a shape filled with quiet

and soil-born heft of light.

Shapes are essence:

Distortion like mother's hum

and what is telling of them--—

Unending rain

falling from distended bellies

of clouds is a form of love.

If the body is not a mass

of color weighed down by air,

it is then pistiled breath kissing

toward hope. Opening themselves

to scores of rushlight,

these flowers also have shape:

A swelling

against a backdrop of peeled

paint—an act of belief,

or violation. Cloth-like and dainty

hissing up pillars of throats.

A distinction between loss

and birth that helps to pretty a room

with draped windows. To keep

light from spilling forth faces:

In time, all windows open.

These leaves are endlessly in blossom.

NOTES ON YESTERDAY

In the dark, we quickly forget how to fall. You learned

Mason jars held light against the cherry tree whose fruit

Filled our stomachs, at which point we realized innocence

Escaped us like the point of night when quiet falls

Too soon. The falling seems as if it never ended. We grew

To stars which fell past the hollow portion of sky as cherry seeds

Scattered the lawn. Water spoiled in the flesh that failed.

I discovered my body alongside

You discovered your body alongside me.

I've never found anything that glowed so brightly before or since.

I've never found anything that glowed so brightly before or since

You discovered your body alongside me.

I discovered my body alongside

Water spoiled in the flesh that failed—scattered the lawn

To stars which fell past the hollow portion of sky as cherry seeds

Grew too soon. The falling seems as if it never ended. We

Escaped us like the point of night when quiet fell

And filled our stomachs. At which point we realized innocence

Held light in Mason jars against the cherry tree whose fruit

Quickly forgot how to fall: In the dark, we learned.



Tyler Michael Jacobs serves as Editor-in-Chief of The Carillon. He is the recipient of the Wagner Family Writing Award Endowment. He has words in, or forthcoming: White Wall Review, Runestone, The Hole in the Head Review, The Good Life Review, Aurora: The Allegory Ridge Poetry Anthology, and Funicular Magazine, among others.