1 poem
by Gregory Loselle
After-Dinner Sestina
Across the table, scattered grains of corn
Pick out the evening shadows, stretched from
The bowl I’ve tilted, spilled. Outspread, forlorn—
More distant than connected, like the orbs
in maps of galaxies—each solitary traveler, one
To an orbit, scattered like grains of corn
I’ll sweep up with the flat reach of my arm.
This universe is addled, idle, dumb:
The bowl I’ve tilted, spilled, spread out, forlorn
As empty spaces silent, meaning-shorn:
Mechanical, as all things are in sum
By depth and measure. Scattered grains of corn
Are planets, asteroids, a heap of forms
Blown outward from the center, from the drum
Creation sounded in the primal storm
Of being being modeled, being born.
The universe is always, all ways thumbs:
Across the table, scattered grains of corn
I’ve constellated, spilled, spread out, forlorn.