Community
BY NOAH BERLATSKY.
The herdsman frolic
white and fluffy like cloud cover.
But there are no clouds.
Only the sun, with its mild eye
burning, endlessly burning
as the blackbirds
ignite, and the pines sway
into flame, the children
climbing with buttery hands
into the great maw of heaven.
where the left lid opens
smooth as a wound.
The land is a chorus
of organic melody
beautiful, endless, silent
each fit for its place in the earth
under heaven, which turns
under no heart but its own.
Noah Berlatsky (he/him) is a freelance writer in Chicago. His first full length collection is Not Akhmatova (Ben Yehuda Press, 2024). He has chapbooks published and/or forthcoming with the Origami Poems Project, above/ground, and LJMcD Communications. You can follow him on X (Twitter) @nberlat.