Back to Issue Eighteen.

morning song


Feathered thing            un-pinable, un-

cageable, when I say                You are many-sided

as a cut diamond,           I mean

Your hands for doing, your        wide wingspan, your

always open mouth. Stippled pond     half-frozen over,

little bead of sea          glass, when I say    The daffodils

are foolish, I mean           Late frost—sheathed in ice,

brittle as glass. You know        these things already,

I’m an easy        tell. I can’t help I’m the kind of boy

born with his heart        on the outside, hard

for me to help         what you can and cannot see.

This poem references the song “Mouth” by the experimental rock band Fear Before.

Jim Whiteside is a graduate of the creative writing MFA program at The University of North Carolina at Greensboro and a Virginia Center for the Creative Arts fellow. His recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Southern ReviewIndiana ReviewKenyon Review Online, Colorado Review, and The Massachusetts Review, among others. Originally from Cookeville, Tennessee, he lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. He tweets @whiteside_jim.

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