Poetry — February 27, 2011 14:13 — 1 Comment

After The Reading – Chris Siteman

for W. Stafford

You’ve visited here before,
but this night seems
the ghost of itself, & you’ll
carry now like a deep

regard for others on your cab
ride to some strange bed
invested with sleep’s
little deaths—

Solitude, imagination, the
communion in your very body—
You’ll find your other eyes
like a doorway;

where brass bells toll across
a hill; where brass whispers
your name beyond names—

There, more than two voices
whisper bone truths in darkness
when wind & rain beat
door & window,

when stillness breathes hope
tomorrow brings enough light
to bear the design—

Bio:

Born in Boston, Chris Siteman grew up an ex-convict’s son in an Irish-Catholic family. He’s traveled throughout the US, Europe and Cuba, working in the trades as a bouncer, landscaper, chimney sweep, waiter, mason tender, roofer and carpenter, as well as working as a pre-rigger for Ringling Bros. In 2007 Chris received his M.F.A. from Emerson College. Since August 2010 he’s been pursuing his J.D. at Suffolk Law. He’s taught in Boston University’s undergraduate writing program, Lesley University’s Humanities department, and currently teaches English at Suffolk University. His work appeared most recently in White Whale Review, Salamander and Consequence Magazine.

One Comment

  1. Michael O'Neill says:
    February 27, 2011 at 4:15 pm

    Thank you for publishing this work I loved it. Please find more work like this to post in the future.
    Michael

    Reply

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney

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