By: Temple Cone
feet broken
the statue eyes turned
cradled arms toward the heavens
at rest
as if awaiting
one hand curled furtherance
around a branch thin-edged leaves
olivewood
in a loop of
Orpheus endings, beginnings
is not coming for you
loss, O loss
the lyre is
he lied, my dear unbroken
the strings so he remains
unstrung
the arrow
that absence the center
draws toward full of light
piercing
Temple Cone is Professor of English at the U.S. Naval Academy and the inaugural Poet Laureate for the city of Annapolis. He is the author of four books of poetry: Guzzle; That Singing; The Broken Meadow, which received the Old Seventy Creek Poetry Press Series Prize; and No Loneliness, which received the FutureCycle Press Poetry Book Prize. He has also published seven poetry chapbooks, most recently Southrenody, which received the Raw Art Review Poetry Chapbook Prize.