Down, Down

Let’s toss aside our fishy preoccupation
with historicity. Let’s say they sunk him

into text to type our slow descent
to self, into an empty belly intent

for Tarshish, which is a fancy way to say
really far away. His then is our slow

awakening that these, our lodgings,
are something less than satisfactory.

His the sinking realization that such a place
proves topsy-turvy in a tempest.

His too our coming-to that no, we’re not
climbing out of this, that out

means down and down means
jostled round the callused tongue

of an immensity hungry to help us
figure out ourselves, to help us

out ourselves into a meet figuring
that the only self with meat is the eaten one.


Luke Harvey

Luke Harvey lives in Chickamauga, GA with his wife and daughter, where he works their homestead and teaches high school English. He holds an MA in Teaching from Covenant College and will graduate in August with his MFA from Seattle Pacific University. His poems have appeared in Poetry Pacific, The Write Launch, The Showbear Family Circus, and elsewhere.


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