Grief

sighs like a muffled gong, a negative

mothered to life in a darkroom, a nebula

spreading its arms for the last time, prismatic

nature of funeral sunlight, the brittle teeth

of a chain-link fence, organs mistaken

for mustard seeds ground in a stone mill.

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A nebula sighs in brittle organs, life

in a darkroom, a funeral ground spreading

its arms, prismatic teeth—mistaken, negative

to the nature of a chain-link fence, of a mill

mothered for mustard seeds, a stone gong

like sunlight, muffled for the last time.

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Chase Garner (he/him) is a poet and exceptionally amateur baker from Northwest Arkansas. His work has appeared in Stirring, Sleet Magazine, and Mistake House Magazine, among others.