By: Ace Boggess | Posted on: Summer 2019
we’ll wake together, each holding a knife, white-knuckled,
tense. twin plots—their simultaneous formation during sleep
reveals what we held back: how love is hate with aluminum stars,
resentment festering in dreams. we’ll open eyes &
agree night was best when it belonged to us like a loveseat
shared in the living room. our minds come together over coffee
as we say thirty, thirty, thirty like old editors stamping our ends.
this will all make sense when too much joy has scabbed &
we regret our mornings were closer to nights than we ever knew.
Ace Boggess is the author of four books of poetry, the most recent of which is Lost the Art of Dreaming It So (Unsolicited Press, 2018). His writing appears in Notre Dame Review, Rhino, North Dakota Quarterly, Rattle, and many other journals. He received a fellowship from the West Virginia Commission on the Arts and spent five years in a West Virginia prison. He lives in Charleston, West Virginia.