Flush Left | Andrew K. Peterson | 01 15 23

The Year in Streaming

the child and siren align    
summering down
hands incomplete as 
dancers waxing 
rainbow moonstone
“can you stop suffering
for like, a minute?”   
do you mean could i?
burn through? 
wave by wave? 
at what difference?
in a spiral, crocodile 
& roses aaaaallll day
teach myself 
(again) to rest 
is not to squander
lighten 
as the sun hits 
off the cymbal 
nn-tsk 
like back in the day  
when we were still 
planets to a plum—
swan-swank 
gonging in between

—Submitted on 09/26/2022

Andrew K. Peterson is the author of A blue nocturne notebook (Spuyten Duyvil, 2021) and four other collections. In 2017 he was a co-organizer of the Boston Poetry Marathon. He lives near Boston.

Editor’s Note: The series title Flush Left refers to the fact that, due to our limited WordPress skills, we are only considering poems that are flush left. Poems already in our Submittable queue that have simple non-flush-left formatting may be considered for publication.

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