Read an Excerpt from Elton Glaser’s Prizewinning Poem, “Morning with Injured Air”

Forthcoming in AJ XX

What kind of dreams seep up from downy pillows?

Women in all their flesh and finery,

Swivel of bellies, long legs whistling with silk.

 

Thank God, it’s too soon

For the bronze appeal of church bells.

Isn’t silence sweeter to heaven than those brute tongues?

 

Hair at odds with itself, I wrangle a Lucky

From the wrecked pack, and pour into my mug

Black acid from the day before.

 

I wish this milk came from cows

With the map of Europe on their bony rumps,

And these eggs from peahens in a pear tree.

 

I want a morning strange as gypsy earrings

On a nun, anything to make my heart

Backfire and grind into second gear.

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