Issue 9 – Niles


Bo Niles


Sometimes within the wilderness that is my heart
I wonder where lies: oasis.

Sediment and fossil, undeserving even of this poem,
slump under a coincidence of bones.

Sands ripple, reshuffle into dunes.
All belie the audacity of moisture.

And I: I continue to supervise my life
as I negotiate the fringe of burning sand

and seek redemption
from the petty indulgences that stain my days.

To mask the sense of loss what use are purgative tears?

I pray to move beyond the dust into fertile green.

The tears pool. And, soon enough,
a blessed tree sighs beyond the smudged mirage.