It wasn’t much
but he filled the cave
with ice,
left the stones padlocked
in their bodies.
Not even the moon
could enter.
Its light was comatose,
subliminal against the
dry, winter rock.
He would not leave
until everything he knew
fell from his mind
like hearsay.
Until he could walk out
no longer recognizable
beneath the blue trees.
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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