he said all things
will be better here
even if winter
is a lifetime
even if our bones
are scattered across
prairie hills, like the ashes
of dead trees, like the
fireflies you never chased
across these high plains.
the mighty gallatin gnaws
at our feet
go and chase those fireflies
said the river
go and take your mad boots
over that mountain
all things
will be better here
her mouth
a perfect egg.
Ag Synclair publishes The Montucky Review and edits poetry for The Bookends Review. Widely published around the globe, he flies under the radar. Deftly.