Grief
sighs like a muffled gong, a negative
mothered to life in a darkroom, a nebula
spreading its arms for the last time, prismatic
nature of funeral sunlight, the brittle teeth
of a chain-link fence, organs mistaken
for mustard seeds ground in a stone mill.
A nebula sighs in brittle organs, life
in a darkroom, a funeral ground spreading
its arms, prismatic teeth—mistaken, negative
to the nature of a chain-link fence, of a mill
mothered for mustard seeds, a stone gong
like sunlight, muffled for the last time.
Chase Garner (he/him) is a poet and exceptionally amateur baker from Northwest Arkansas. His work has appeared in Stirring, Sleet Magazine, and Mistake House Magazine, among others.