if reincarnation
you will be a night shade
emerging from the fenced shadow
to steal the chickens
one by one.
You will be wearing the clothes
I bought you—high laced boots,
wine colored jacket.
The voice
you use is the one for orgasm &
for throwing cups
across the kitchen.
if reincarnation
I will be mute.
My brothers will be holding
my father’s head under
in the milk tank
as he thrashes
as he emits Pall Mall smoke &
bubble curses.
I am watching
with the cattle
who, ears forward,
are alert, interested &
chewing the
slowest of cud.
One-hundred-and-sixty
acres is a quarter mile
of corn & oats,
hayfield & pasture,
long days under the sun
plus endless places
to bury the body.
if reincarnation
the first love which
lifted me from childhood
& dropped me into
broken glass
nights,
the taste of not kissing,
will return
poured over ice
simple syrup
& bitters.
In your honor
safely distant,
make mine a double.
∞
Travis Stephens was raised on a dairy farm. He earned a degree at University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, before departing for the West Coast. A sea captain, he now resides in California.
Recent credits include: STONEBOAT REVIEW, CROSSWINDS POETRY JOURNAL, SOUTHWORD, HAVIK, APEIRON REVIEW, THE FINGER, NIGHT PICNIC JOURNAL, PENNSYLVANIA ENGLISH and GRAVITAS POETRY.
Online, his work was a Poem of the Week for Silver Needle Press and poems have appeared in INK & VOICES, RUE SCRIBE, SHEILA-NA-GIG, OPEN: JOURNAL OF ARTS & LETTERS, THE SCRIBLERUS ARTS JOURNAL, HCE REVIEW and DEAD MULE SCHOOL OF SOUTHERN LITERATURE.
