top of page

There are 807 Miles Between the Ordinary and Sublime

by Alison Myers

Too much sweet vanilla cream

in a cold brew, or simple syrup

in a craft cocktail, implies the bitter of the sublime

is sublimated, numbed by a honeyed something:

give me no saccharine panacea to blunt the ache of days,

and no ambrosial mist over the miles. It's immeasurable,

and deep, infinitely dividing.

Zeno knows the number:

              of cells we've held between two hands

              or shoulders or naked arms;

              between the hum of a love

              for words and the earthquake

              of a nervous shaking leg;


the infinite divinity in seconds and spaces between parts

and heartbeats which approach, but never reach, one.

Alison Myers teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. She currently lives in Cherry Hill, NJ, with two dogs and an overgrown garden. Her work has appeared in Ender’s World, SWWIM Every Day, trampset, and in great weather for MEDIA’s Suitcase of Chrysanthemums.

Tip The Poet.png


October 2018

bottom of page