Daedalus in Oxyana

By WILLIAM BREWER

 

Was an emperor of element within the mountain’s hull,

chewing out the corridors of coal,

 

crafting my labyrinth as demanded.

My art: getting lost in the dark. 

 

Now I practice craving;

it’s the only maze I haven’t built myself and can’t dismantle.

 

I gave my body to the mountain whole.

For my body, the clinic gave out petals inked with curses.

 

Refill, refill, refill, until they stopped.

Then I fixed on scraping out my veins,

 

a trembling maze, a skein of blue.

Am lost in them like a bull

 

that’s wandered into endless, frozen acres.

Times my simple son will shake me to,

 

syringe still hanging like a feather from my arm.

What are you always doing, he asks.

 

Flying, I say. Show me how, he begs.

And finally, I do. You’d think

 

the sun had gotten lost inside his head,

the way he smiled.

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

William Brewer is the author of I Know Your Kind (Milkweed Editions, forthcoming 2017), winner of the National Poetry Series, and Oxyana, selected for a Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship, also forthcoming in 2017. Currently a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, he grew up in West Virginia.

Julia PikeDaedalus in Oxyana

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Friday Reads: June 2017

We love any excuse to hear from our contributors! This month, our Issue 13 authors and poets tap into their literary communities as they recommend works by colleagues, friends, and Pulitzer Prize winners. United in their affection, the authors are nonetheless divided by their selections, as their choices shed light upon nowhereness, colonization, and Florida oranges.

Good Boys

MEGAN FERNANDES
Once in a car, a good boy / shook me hard. If you like it / that way in bed, then why are you… / the tiny bruises on my arms / where his prints pressed into my pink/ sleeves rose to the surface like rattles. / Like requests. They thrived there / for a week until they settled /