Black immense heavens.
Moonlight throws down
a path to walk upon water.
Embers pulsate in the fire ring
as if I had been plunged into
your volcanic heart.
Waves like an orchestra:
violins in my left ear,
timpani and cymbals in the right.
Somewhere, elsewhere:
the cry of the baby
the weeping of a widow
the gurgling blood from the wound
the moan of the imprisoned man
the drop of a tear into the dust
the ring of the cash register
the tap tap tap of the baton
Black immense heavens.
Photo by Matt Hardy on Unsplash.
James Madigan
James Madigan has lived near Lake Michigan his entire life. Born and raised in Chicago, he now divides his time between Oak Park, Illinois and Cleveland, Wisconsin. After a career as a public librarian, he studied poetry under Derek Coyle at Carlow College in Ireland, then obtained a Master's in the Writers' Program at University of Illinois, Chicago. He was the recipient of the 2022 Michael Anania Award for Poetry by the University. His work has been published in Mantis (Stanford University), Owen Wister Review, Capsule Stores and After Hours: a Journal of Chicago Writing.