May

A cricket’s milieu—dewy grass, fistful of dandelions,
reconnaissance of nesting jays—has proceeded shadowy rain.
Today the lily blooms, worms surface in dirt,
clouds zoom like warmongers across a peacetime sky
while soldiers linger in bed, nursing tea.
Hares evade the machinations of serpents,
tracing the sun’s arc for hours in fields of new wheat.
The sublimity of chilled cantaloupe
on a chipped blue ceramic plate, shank of lamb,
conjoin, sprawled on checkered sheets.
Wind curtails the feast—lavender-lipped,
pilfering pollen, flush with gnats, the river unravelling
spools of speckled silk
in eyes of the ravenous doe.

Kevin J.B. O’Connor received his MFA from Old Dominion University, and will start a PhD in English program at University of Kentucky in the fall. He has published poetry in numerous journals, including Bayou Magazine, Glassworks, Flare: The Flagler Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, and Visions International.

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