Plowing

You come out of the forest
into a clearing where the skulls
are glazed by moonlight
and the dead are reborn
from the patterns of wind and dusk.
Nothing you know now matters.
Even the obsidian stones
shine like strangers.
All around you
the bioluminescence fills the dark,
leaves a streak of cave-light
in your eyes.
Civilizations end in the heart
right where they began.
The plowman pulls his sun-colored blade
over the blooming paths.
Night falls with its forgetful ages.

Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA, and is the founder of Seven CirclePress. Their work has appeared in American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, The Comstock Review, Rust + Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. Their full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. Visit them at https://www.sethjani.com.

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