Crater Heart
Such strangeness these days.
Morning rising over my head
like the quilt sewn of old t-shirts
or saltwater waves
licking our sun-bleached dock.
Then—you absorbing moment, you
harvest queen—the sky is surprised
by evening’s orchard.
I have stuffed the South’s nightlights
in my mouth. Gala of fireflies.
How clumsy I feel in front of God.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2022 by Tennessee Hill, “Crater Heart” from The Adroit Journal Issue, Forty-One.