Invocation

Francis Ittenbach

Sepulchral Jerusalem, lay to rest my
        Empty songs and promises, the last
Light fading out on the horizon,
        This burial song steeped in autumn rain
And petrichor – the scent of empty vessels of the year.
        In waste-sick rooms and
Hours of the moon something chants;
        A long-silent god, a song or a sentence
Wicked like the stain of sacrificial altars
        Choked with sagebrush and thistle
Down, down in the deepest
        Time before an ending was conceived,
Where golden calves melt into air.

Francis Ittenbach

Francis Ittenbach is a graduate student in the English Department at Emory University. His poems have previously been published by the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Silver Needle Press, Slash Pine Press, and the New College Review.

Issue 34
Back to Issue
Also in this thread
This thread has no other posts