How The Torrent Moves The Plan
What, then, is this world, slippery thing, made for trying, or just here? I am here as you are, unsung crowds of shuddering lovers and night redactions. When I step to the door, an old man steps inside me, wagging a finger at the encroaching cosmos, like he could direct it. Then the boy I always wish for shakes free from the squall, and I tumble out of legacy into bright new sweat. Always is always a word of last resort. I don't need it now, but I might when the blue O of my scared mouth finally finds the tune of your breast. As if your lungs gave only gold. We dawn in each other the way the river ripples in the risen light: always the same, never the same, always falling.
Matthew Rotando's poems have appeared in various journals, including Green Linden, Shampoo, canwehaveourballback, and Tishman Review. His first and second poetry books (The Comeback's Exoskeleton, 2008, and Hail, 2018) are published by Upset Press, Brooklyn. He is a Fulbright Fellow and holds degrees from Duke University (B.A.), Brooklyn College (M.F.A.), and the University of Arizona (M.A., Ph.D). He is a professor of English Literature and Creative Writing at SUNY Nassau Community College. He bicycles regularly with Dickinson, Borges, and Neruda.