Curved Valor Poem by Garrett Johnson

a prison and a garden in the same storybook, rusted metal in this garden,
tire swing wrapped in a delicate portal. if it is night, where will i be as the sand
rushes back and forth amongst the ones that affect it?

all of these little trinkets are enhancements, or a stretched out candle flame,
purging different times, somehow transcending the shingles. and i do not even wink at their presence.
saying, 'i will find my gliding sparrow. the water is thin but so is the concept of time. hence their efficaciousness,

invisibilty weighs heavily on sight.' and i can't measure the waves, only knowing that in their presence i pass under
the gaze. a petal, staying inside the house, does its best not to wilt.