The Substance of Things Not Seen we begin here in the middle of the ocean clinging to whatever will float a rock a leaf a voice from the door we hold to the scent of his old clothes hoping his face will stay hold to the stumps of flowered walls and tar-papered floors our faith on wooden angels and pockets of gin on pomade braids and processions of little girls in communion white dresses on cornbread skillets and pots for sunday greens we cling to the spirits that hold to the bodies of chairs the shadows of halls the blue lines of paper shades that lie in the folds of veils and rings and locks of hair the substance of things not seen the evidence of things not known a rock a leaf a voice from the door a tide of salt and stone.
Deborah A. Bennett is an American poet who was long-listed for The Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Award for 2022. Her work is spiritual in nature and inspired by her life-long affinity for solitary walks in the woods.
Amethyst Review 