In the Rendaku Forest
Derek Graf
I have a death that burns inside. Inside, my death tongues my name until it hurts: until I am buried in dirt and dry twigs and the broken limbs of bracken. Here I have this cramped body made of birds, fissures in my skin that glow like moon windows. My arms are ashen how they never touch you, but all the heavy damage of morning is somehow sparrowed now, and the shaken trees stand like thin sentences between us: for you to open the long wings of my leaden hair would be nothing: for you to open the long wings of my leaden hair would be everything
Derek Graf was born and raised in Tampa, FL. He received his B.A. from the University of South Florida, and currently lives and works in Stillwater, OK, where he is completing his MFA degree at Oklahoma State University. His poems have been featured in The Boiler Journal, Lunch Ticket, and DIALOGIST. His chapbook, What the Dying Man Asked Me, is forthcoming from ELJ Publications in May 2015.