JAMES BLEVINS
A LONELY BRACE
A brace was left to support the whole of it.
Inside the wind,
It was so carelessly held,
Asking so little.
A word might have knocked it down.
The lonely brace, in the wind,
A poem made—
Broken down to fit a throat.
So soft it tenders the stomach.
I might just come out tonight
To hold it: this brace.
It feels better, knowing—
The fantasy of me, holding.
PINK WINE
Where’d the pink wine go? It wasn’t wasted.
It was stolen and drunk, and still—I ended up disappointed.
In me—in who I seem to be, when I’m not paying close enough attention.
*
At night, the metal that makes us, we break it down with blunt objects. We wake up in the
morning at the wrong time, in the wrong bed, and the missing pieces we lost to the night, we
can’t find them—but sometimes, we remember where we might have laid them down.
JAMES BLEVINS is a writer of poetry and fiction with a few works in print. He is currently attending the College of Central Florida in Lecanto, Florida, studying English and Creative Writing. He has worked on the college’s literary magazine, In the Write Mind, as editor in chief and copy editor/submissions editor. His first published short story, “For All the Bending,” is included in the 2016 Scythe Prize collection.
You can check out more of his work here: https://jamesblevinsblog.wordpress.com/.