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Credo

Published on:
January 27, 2020
Read time:
1 min.
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I believe the poet’s hair has always               
been a plume of smoke caught stiff in winter         
air. Their voice has always spoken over
water, carried through the fog to reach me
in the morning. I believe that they have
always worn their collar button loose, and
always tapped their finger to their head when
opened to a spark of humbling wonder.

 

I believe a day will come when my hair
too will have always been white, my leg been
lame, my eyes weighed down by beauty, by these
light-box cryptograms of real things. My
heart has always been unburdened, unwounded by jealousy
for the clarity through which the poet always lives and sees.

Lyle Enright
Lyle Enright is a writer and editor currently living in Chicago, where he is finishing his PhD at Loyola University. He writes extensively on issues in contemporary art, philosophy and theology, and his work has also appeared in Christ & Pop Culture, The Englewood Review of Books, and Ruminate among others. You can follow him on Twitter @ynysdyn, where he promotes indie fiction and tweets his way through his dissertation.

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