by Kyle Valentine
don’t tell me—what you don’t mean—the sky’s on fire—and we’re beaming—pianos of blood—the strings and the starlight—the moon wants what it wants—it all and your shadow—god’s tears—pooling shine shining—thinking there is nothing—more beautiful—than this—simulacrum of glow—torch the last lain guitar—just a knife—another knife—tucked back in its bible—flowers with heads—falling slow—in slow motion—it’s done—where’s the music—we’re all underwater—always wishing we were—anywhere but here—
Kyle Valentine is the recipient of a Fulbright. He was shortlisted for the Frontier Poetry Prize, and his work has been published in Salt Hill, Whiskey Island, Transom, Visitant, Construction, and more. A native New Orleanian, he currently resides in Los Angeles, where he is one half of the band The Holy Knives.
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