Might we see the golden leaves
for what they are and call it decay.
Ask me why we covet this, the fluttering down?
Out loud I will love this scraping by,
these thumbscrews, this body that will outlast.
Tide’s higher—more to swim in, right?
Less stars and clawing desperately at the sky?
Am I right to desire this more and more
as the earth feels closer to the edge than it ever was?
Cry in the name of the world that’s given us everything and
only asked us to hold up the mirror.
All becoming has needed me;
then leave us all to answer for this.
How much farther can we drift?
What more can we take before it’s our own weight to bear,
clinging to our wretched shoulders?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kai Clark is an art student, poet, and native Ohioan. On any given day, you can find them scribbling angrily in a notebook, taking a hike, trying to figure out how to meditate, or perhaps all three if you should be so lucky. They write what they know, which is mostly angst and lesbianism, so take their words with a grain of salt. Or a few.

Contents

Silent Ephemera

ABOUT THE AUTHOR