To Grace, before

by Jacob DeVoogd


Moisture of your navel split in two,

willing itself beyond the depths of alone

before it is mended, forged into a tone

louder than footprints.


Hellebore roses pleading with the glue

laced underneath your eyelashes,

yearning to taste mauve

before color explodes.


Moans have more to do with affirmation

than feeling, more latitude

than the ballooning goosebumps tinted on your breasts

that hope to, once again, outrun misappropriation.


Crowned nighthawk of your heart

I ache to grab before waking.

When lost is a single proton away from amber,

you are predawn.


Jacob DeVoogd is an MFA candidate at Western Michigan University where he serves as a graduate instructor. Born in Detroit, raised in Chicago, Jacob currently lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Photo credit: Guillaume Delebarre via Flickr, all creative commons

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s