Four Poems by C.W. Bryan

 

Green Briar

 

Everything can be an ax

when the view

below

swallows

everything in shades of green—

anything is slow-growing

when the wind

pushes

back into your nose.

 

Take care to see it through.

Dependency comes to those

who refuse to climb.

 

 

Herding Spring

 

Shepherding the horses of spring

Insipid whip of yellow,

Rather fine. The line of

 

Afterimage cuts the air

Into odourless banks. Flat

Water stares at the scene.

 

A sterile line is drawn

taut as the horizon.

Sharp as affliction.

 

A low spinescence follows the crack into summer.

The horse’s hollow eyes

blind with starlight.

 

 

Pagoda Dogwood

 

What cavern is this

that throws my shadow

westward? Crowds

of red punducles eat

what sanity is left.

 

Blood is heavy.

 

Shadows line the floors

There are fissures in the sinew,

shallow but precise.

Well drained, residing

rain cannot reach you here.

The crook of elbow—

split by sunlight—

can hold just as much time

as summer.

The whiteness will be your own.

 

The sunrise is terminal.

 

 

Cornelian Cherry

 

Lustrous bright green, not

so marked by youth

but by effort. Early spring

 

comes fast. Carves canyons

of your eyes. Sockets stained

with shadows. Your

 

Stratified muscles ache with

Descent. On the borders of

Breath, a plethora of

 

Lateral umbels.

They stand ready.

Conscription cries red-green tears.

 

They do not come for us all.

But the margins shrink

To match the moderate length

 

Of life.

C.W. Bryan is a student at Georgia State University. He lives in Atlanta, GA where he writes poetry, nonfiction and short fiction. He is currently writing his weekly series, Poetry is Plagiarism, with Sam Kilkenny at poetryispretentious.com. His debut chapbook Celine was published with Bottlecap Press in 2023.