To Meet the Sun: A poem by Steve Klepetar

By Steve Klepetar


To Meet the Sun

Every year something leaps up
at me through a veil
of flame. It might happen
on the coldest day, when sky

turns the color of ice, translucent
blue shrieking at wind’s
rippling back, a song
that thrills me to a morning of vision

and pain. Then I will no longer
wear these familiar clothes, but pull them off,
an old skin to strip
and leave wrinkling by my bed.

My new skin will burn, even in this dark
time when shameless men ascend a throne
of bones. My new eyes evaporate morning mist,
and my voice, not hoarse or broken, rises to meet the sun.

Steve Klepetar lives in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. His work has appeared worldwide in such journals as Boston Literary Magazine, Chiron, Deep Water, Expound, Phenomenal Literature, Red River Review, Snakeskin, Voices Israel, Ygdrasil, and many others.  Several of his poems have been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize (including four in 2016). New collections include A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press), Family Reunion (Big Table Publishing), and How Fascism Comes to America (Locofo Chaps).

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