Miracle Movie

by R.T. Castleberry / July 14th, 2024

Acres of trees stunted into
stumps surround me.
Looking for shade, I see
a broken oak limb, hanging,
flailing in the wind.
Thinking aloud,
questions on, jokes on closure
shape and evade measures
of decision above disinterest.
Never start at the beginning,
I’m cautioned by some doctor,
a fabulist favoring Dilaudid
and dollars over discretion.
Answering a call, a summons at
autumn parties for the disabused,
those taking marriage for a stroll,
he funds transgressions with
appearance fees, cues from
informers, opposing officials.
Fireside beds open for all, he brags,
at a lakeshore farm on loan.
Later, I wake puzzled from
the long dream where
everything is laid out in
perfect movie star order.
Through an open window,
I see him enter his cherry grove
with a ladder and a cowboy’s rope.
October kisses his hair
with a mother’s caress.

R.T. Castleberry, a Pushcart Prize nominee, has work in Dissident Voice, Caveat Lector, San Pedro River Review, Glassworks Magazine, Silk Road and Gyroscope Review. Internationally, he's had poetry published in Canada, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Portugal, the Philippines, India and Antarctica. His poetry has appeared in the anthologies: You Can Hear the Ocean: An Anthology of Classic and Current Poetry, TimeSlice, The Weight of Addition, and Level Land: Poetry For and About the I35 Corridor. Read other articles by R.T..

This article was posted on Sunday, July 14th, 2024 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.