Brian Miles

Fire Patches

meeting in the segue between concrete & absolute
justice became a chore of tunneling beyond
the limits of personality into
a more basic space

we couldn’t find the way to find
the mossy rock in the forest nor
the sphere of light hidden
in the city beneath
some tower or other edifice
sprawling out perhaps

or sign maybe that
molding filled through to shining
into the fists beating
in the populace
chest

via the eyes paired off & mingling
internally with time some quite quickly
it’s a modern place the city

& who’s to say besides what’s moving
from what became of so & so
& what’s it called & foo & widget & and the closest
of our treasured things

resting beside
our other things encased more loosely
than we’d like

it came to be
more truly you got lost
along beside

the place you’d been
it’s come to tightening round
the neck you’d set alight

Brian Miles lives, works, and writes in Chicago. He spends most of his time trying to figure out why things don't quite work. You can read his poems in Caliban, Everyday Other Things, and Columbia Poetry Review.