‘The Glass Bottle Tree’ and Other Poetry by Gabe Russo

The Glass Bottle Tree

When the wind blows through, the tree shakes.
The glass bottles tip their sunlight
Over a stiff hearth of twilight;
Sealing its glow as night awakes.

Two silhouettes do gives and takes
In drums of waltz down blue moonlight.
When the wind blows through, the tree shakes.
The glass bottles tip their sunlight

Over a rusted dawn’s mistakes.
Their promises dimmed from sight;
Glints of shard hidden for the night.
Soon they’ll be swept up in God’s rakes.
When the wind blows through, the tree shakes.

An Old West Hymn

Drag back his body alone and dead.
Sky bleeds dawn come a holsterin’ gun–
When he lassos moon by deed of dread.
Drag back his body alone and dead.
He shall see no stars from shallow bed!
Hunt sovereign beast, and if low he run:
Drag back his body—alone and dead.
Sky bleeds dawn come a holsterin’ gun.

Peeking into Someone’s Window
(A Bouts-Rimés Poem)

Alone in my quiet place of a house,
Though dust settled its spore smile to clump
Under heaps of living now seen as dump.
I’m akin to Kansas, no country louse–
Just vetting the band of some Midwest spouse.
I’ve grown accustom to my backyard stump:
A ringed eye mulling heaven—grayish lump
Reminding me of that gray-spotted mouse
My ex let run up her arm like the creep
In Alton who shook shadows loose to fight.
Caught inside covers, can’t find the good sleep–
This is how the moon gets its kicks at night.
Maybe I’ll clump wings; fashion a dust dove
To hit the lights … fly away … send my love.

Featured Image: “March in Montana” by Tim Cox.

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