top of page

My Life: A Passing September

by S. Penkevich

Fall is the coming plot point —


            I close this chapter along

            With the bedroom windows. Still much to mull over

            As a penitent who has snuck a drop

            From the monastery casks does

            While gazing out over the finger-linked fields,

            The transitory flocks.

            I walk out between the vines,

            Drop the needle in the groove between heartbeats.

            The finest classic hits.

            Our lives build towards an unsatisfied scale,

            The silence after our final note

            Is just as important as those played.

            Come dance with me

            Amongst the thorns and impending frost.

            Come dance with me

            Until our bodies become the soil

            That nourish the roots

            That grow new horizons

            That makes porchlight dreamers dream of gods

            And new dawns.

S. Penkevich is a West Michigan poet who leaves poems on trees wherever they go. Their work has appeared in Junto Magazine, Cathexis and Bellatrist Magazine among others.

Tip The Poet.png


November 2018

bottom of page