For a moment I was a failed skip of stone
sunk into the river for a moment I was the river
purling in long last shadows of September
for a moment I was a skinny grizzly climbing
from a beer can for a time I was Christmas
lights wrapping around downtown’s smokestack
until I became a book filled with baby teeth
for a while I was a boy painting the portrait
of a queen for a while I was a child queen
for a while I knew the switches to every light
knew the angles of every kiss in the autumn
night and shaped morning from the curve
of her hips for a while I spelled the difference
between church and lips for a while I was
young for a while I was son for a while I
was father of a million reasons not to pray
for a while God begged me for apology
for a while I was an apology walking the edge
of the dam for a while I was dust on the floor
of a cotton mill swept by a broom out into
summer for a while I was summer until liver
spotted clouds blew over the dunes to fling
the monarchs into Mexico for a while I was
oyamel fir and yucca tree after all sap ran
desert west after sugar maple elm and pine
for a moment there I had made up my mind
to be worm for the plover for a second I
believed I was enough vessel for my children
for a night my wife was able to rest on our blade
of stars for one moon the sea could trade us
for the sun for one dawn we filched the horizon
Matt W. Miller is author of The Wounded for the Water; Club Icarus, winner of the 2012 Vassar Miller Prize in Poetry; and Cameo Diner: Poems. He has published work in Birmingham Poetry Review, Harvard Review, Narrative, Crazyhorse, 32 Poems, and other journals. He is a winner of River Styx’s Microfiction Prize, Iron Horse Literary Review’s Trifecta Poetry Prize, and The Poetry by the Sea Conference’s Sonnet Crown Contest. He has been awarded poetry fellowships from Stanford University and the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. Miller teaches English at Phillips Exeter Academy and lives with his family in coastal New Hampshire.
