Three Poems
by John Schellhase
Invocation
Breathe, wind, who’s watched the stories of the world,
Sweeping through her grain and down her streams,
Pollinating earth with rumors, dreams,
And songs you heard in passing as you curled
Through palace chambers, wound through city streets,
And rushed past shepherds herding their white sheep;
You’ve seen all human action, heard all speech,
So breath that I might tell the tales of men
I’ve never known and places I’ve not been.
Collectibles
Collectibles
Stood on a shelf
In the boy's room,
Arranged, unopened,
And unenjoyed.
Down in the trenches,
Legs and arms lost,
Dirty from marching
Through the backyard,
The cheap toys spread
Across the floor,
Almost alive.
my moon
let others seek the beauty of the stars
I prefer my moon, blooming
grain-gold in the sunset
let them hurry off to college
to learn their science, stand in line
to wait a light year for a glance
those scholars can afford the borrowed time
I’ll stay home
where you
have always been
though pale, pock-faced – despite your moods
I choose you over blinding suns that curl
coldly round the earth
like the ribcage of a gothic church
distant, esoteric, dim
but you are close
and for me brighter
and your half smile still lights
the nights I would have spent alone
you are both other
and my own