A Pair of Poems by Blake Kilgore
Sometimes, my vow feels like a foreigner chained between two
trees, both ancient and swaying, elongating tension in bones
and every sinew, harrowing my years.
Last night, when sleep dashed among the shadows
of my fear, throbbing in my chest and slithering cold over
my skin, the weight of your silky limbs provided shelter, held me
calm until the hope rays of morn stained my window shades pale blue.
Sweet to my soul fables tell of
sorrow and defeat, gravid grey
clouds hovering o’er lonely lanterns
on barren, windswept moors.
candles, hopeless cases flickering
against the gloom, marking the way
for travelers so many miles from home.
Those foot sore and hungry, drifting
from one storm to another, warm
when they see the glow, and
though gaunt and freezing, nearly
expired; they will continue.
Others have passed this way, and
more will follow, plodding the
packed soil beneath this flame.
Blake Kilgore grew up in Tornado Alley, spending most of his first three decades in Texas and Oklahoma. Now, he lives in New Jersey with his wife and four sons, where he’s just completed his 21st year teaching history to junior high students. That’s how his love for story began—recounting the (mostly) true stories from olden times. Eventually, he wanted to tell stories of his own, and you can find some of these in Lunch Ticket, Stonecoast Review, Midway Journal, Rathalla Review, Crack the Spine and other fine journals. To learn more, go to blakekilgore.com.