Think of the mason jar
we use to kill yellow jackets,
the way it’s sealed upside down
over the nest’s grassy mouth,
how it thrums and pings with desperation,
hundreds throwing themselves
against the light, little empire
with the luster of golden tiles
stripped from an ancient mosaic
of the sun, the incandescence
of a ghost light burning lonely
in the Theater of All
That Could Have Been,
which has been shuttered closed
to wait out the long winter
descending on your will.
from Poetry Northwest WEBMore by William Brewer from the library
Copyright © William Brewer
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.