top of page

"Sun Skeleton" by Matt Dennison

  • Aug 26, 2021
  • 1 min read

Always the garden's ache is eased with rain, the tiny gods' reveille blown quick for a season:

borrowing transport from sunlight


diamond from bird-throat


before God grows bored and shrugs his cloud-shoulders again.




Matt Dennison is the author of Kind Surgery, from Urtica Press (Fr.) and Waiting for

Better, from Main Street Rag Press. His work has appeared in Rattle, Bayou Magazine,

Redivider, Natural Bridge, The Spoon River Poetry Review and Cider Press Review,

among others. He has also made short films with Michael Dickes, Swoon, Marie Craven

Recent Posts

See All
"A Love Story" by Natalie Marino

While on an evening walk, we see two dogs mating in an abandoned lot full of tall grass. Holding your hand in mine I look up at the moon looking like a coin caught between two cypress trees. I wonder

 
 
"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see there’s a small duck i’ve been waiting for. i tell the duck my name, who i am. it probably doesn’t remember, but that’s fine. i remind myself that when you find an

 
 
"pit hymnal" by Klara Pokrzywa

Star of this soreness I laugh myself awake, sling deep into the heave. Straight out of dirt road walking and at capacity—this being the back-alley way; the heartbreak; the running away constantly. Int

 
 
bottom of page