Wonder is a Wooden Leg
Tonight, beneath pores of steam I sat
still in a pond imagining your lungs.
(we can not wait on science to show
us something scientific) there’s just
too many sprigs to gnaw in twos and threes.
(If we’re not too careful heaven will
leave us low, or worse) in beautiful
ripe fields where rulers rip
at explanations. You bend mystery with slivers
built on both of us. Strangers told us we
could never handle another fall; so God
please know we can’t just be your sweet
The vein caterpillars up,
sucks it down through a glass
straw, then we vanish. Its bliss,
by the mean of memory can not
be resurrected, only performed.
Perhaps no different from death
since itself, too is unimaginable. Others pick
and choose but I can’t.
Angels visit through the doors, observe
the war, (discuss the next) then move
on by foot—wingless as always. While
leaving, one articulates ‘effort’. Farther
wins out each stretch. The photograph is said
to depict a sturdy image of time—So will I.
Christopher Suda’s poetry has been published in blazeVOX, Wilderness House Literary Review, The Aura Literary Review, Poetry Super Highway, The Wayfarer, Danse Macabre, Drunk Monkeys, and other literary journals. Christopher is currently a twenty-four year old undergraduate at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. He is a musician involved in three current music projects: Philos Moore (singer-songwriter) In Snow (Instrumental), and Loveislight (Experimental Hip-Hop).