by RICH IVES
The man who wants to save you from yourself is missing.
Voices from the next room seem dramatic, muffled
like an old radio interviewed by an angry wall.
At first you thought the problem came from
a small hole in your thinking,
the way a dull light flickers with effort,
flutters and subsides, not dead
but already far inside.
You don’t fall all the way down until you recognize the gift.
Salvation’s in one of those places where men can still be heroes,
however foolish and lonely they might appear.
And for weeks to come, every day is new,
the way a Spring-crazed bird can be surprised
all over by the same unrelenting window.
Behind the window is a man with wings
and a little bit of nothing in his hand,
which he examines carefully
and sets free.
RICH IVES is a winner of the Francis Locke Memorial Poetry Award from Bitter Oleander and the 2012 winner of the Creative Nonfiction Prize from Thin Air magazine. His book of days, Tunneling to the Moon, is available from Silenced Press; a fiction chapbook, Sharpen, from Newer York Press; and Light from a Small Brown Bird, a collection of poems, from Bitter Oleander Press. He is also the winner of the What Books Competition for Fiction and his story collection, The Balloon Containing the Water Containing the Narrative Begins Leaking, has just been released.