Two Poems by James Owens

Far

so hard now,

not to be scattered

among shadows

 

and the memory of voices

a light

that calls him back

or a light

that calls him away

 

broken the air broken into snow

or weeping now and

hands heavy with broken

 

sunlight like

 

hands full of shards

 

 

 

 

nightmare

 

sometimes the thin ivory bones

of your hands

 

refuse to wake

but whisper “break us” to the ravens

 

sometimes

 

they fly and pluck black

notes of music from the

 

wing-beaten air

 

 

 

 

James Owens divides his time between Wabash, Ind., and Northern Ontario. Two books of his poems have been published: An Hour is the Doorway (Black Lawrence Press) and Frost Lights a Thin Flame (Mayapple Press). His poems, reviews, translations, and photographs have appeared widely in literary journals, including recent or upcoming publications in The Cortland Review, The Cresset, Poetry Ireland, and The Chaffey Review. He blogs at http://circumstanceandmagic.blogspot.com