viewing
Geoff Anderson
they took the old
out of you
hissed wrinkles
smooth with irons
powdered skin injected
hollowed hands
I can’t remember
how you looked
where tubes pushed
a beat of wings
into the chest
I kept expecting
to rise out of habit
until it didn’t
*
it is my turn
to speak
and I bring
the congregation
into the garden
I showed you
some springs ago
marigolds coated
in frost petals
burning beneath
you told me never to
plant so soon in
May I say I didn’t
want to believe you
when the truth lies
right in front of me
I want it to be
wrong
Geoff Anderson crosses the tracks, the bridge, the overpass in Columbus, OH. His work is out in places like Origins, Wherewithal, and Outlook Springs, among others.