from ashes of an old world,
which swirl in a new breath

of wind. They are gray
and soft as owl feathers.

Melding in darkness, they
transform into a great sea

as the bright god swims
with deft strokes, hailing

a distant ship, which shines
like a newly lit moon on

crystal waves. Though
blind, the helmsman steers

straight as a dart throw,
guided by vibrations on

the water’s silky face.
An inner light spreads

from his skin and through
his hair until it fills the sky.

This is a mother’s song,
sung through tears beyond

longing and rage, and where
the notes fall to the cold, spring

earth, forests rise, and deer
on spindly legs come to nibble

at the leaves of an ash tree, rising
from deep roots to penetrate the clouds.

[Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Flutter Press has recently published two chapbooks: My Father Teaches Me a Magic Word and My Father Had Another Eye.]