Sun on My Back – a poem by Maria Kornacki

Sun on My Back
Holler from a distance
hhh-ear the voice’s elastic echo
stretch for the sun as long
as lungs expand 
hang pregnant
belly howling, beckoning 
forehead throbbing
sweat shining like HoneyCrisp 
apples, the savory juices of summertime. 
It’s the hunger to roam, stratospheric 
air simmers down into the soil, the deeper 
into the dwindling night
worn shoes stumble. Breathe in grass 
with exhausted feet, exhale through the ears, 
forests have elderly eyes and reaching limbs
like a grandparent letting you in, listen
to crickets tapping like trumpets, 
lured by starlit steps 
luminescent lines and
glowing symmetry, you 
may lose grip and slip 
into the sticky tar of darkness, 
a dead, starless sky of absence,
an itch to stop is swatted on the neck,
senseles clock, 
the sun’s brimming face
setting into bed, not settling,
still rolling ember down
a naked back like a golden robe
unfolding new specks, now you
cease digging arduously 
holes in the head. Crickets
hop and
frogs croak, singing to you 
the nursery rhyme cycles of day
without nebulous haze
as they ride steady rhythms,
you listen 
to their circadian songs 
on the moonstruck road
rubble between rubber 
and as for the sun,
she is a rebel with good intentions
on the run 
and it’s only a matter of time
until she comes back 

Maria Kornacki graduated from Eastern Michigan University with a BA in Creative Writing. Her work has been featured in Sonder Midwest, Local Wolves, Remington Review, and Genre: Urban Arts No.8 Print. She’s working on the manuscript for her first poetry book. 

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