Tyler Kline: To go back
After Austin Smith
The teeth are unthreaded
from the twine. Wished back
into the mouth that sharpened them
like stones aimed at geese
breaking the surface of a pool.
The mouth removed like cigar matches
from the kitchen drawer. The robin’s nest
emptied of a gold button, garlic clove.
Where the motorcycle burned or the boy
slipped too quick out of his shadow—
flowers laid for both. In the garage
the belly of a lawn mower opened
like a bowl full of keys.
The almanac unlocked. A single
strand of horse hair broken.
The mother eases a cross into the mud
& lifts it up
to know the type of wound it makes.
TYLER KLINE is the author of the chapbook As Men Do Around Knives (ELJ Editions, 2016). He lives in Pennsylvania where he teaches middle school English and works on a vegetable farm in the summer. Visit him at tylerklinepoetry.com.
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