Salt-flat Messiah

By Jason Deiss

Pastel oranges dehydrate,
scouring the heavens
in black sapphire.

Clouds twist
through draping branches
that finger the river’s
gentle sway.

On the edge of the grey,
cracked-pepper beach,
a hanging barn door heralds
the Blessings of sinners
in tangerine paint.

My fingers sketch
the window,
tracing lines
in the chill, dew coat
opposite pink neon

I wonder
that the deep,
black-salt crests grind
to reflect
the luminous call:

The                 Young

and                 the

Old      go


Categories: Issue 4, Issue 6, Poetry, Poetry | Leave a comment

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