They make the most of the raw
poverty of our breath, taking
leave from the blighted canyons
of our lungs and, in haunting
timbre, give eloquent voice to
anguish. Barely able to hide
their sadness, they make visible
the holes in our hearts, our bent
towards darkness and the beautiful
blemish of afflictions that often
come upon us like a sudden
abundance of dusk rising through
a narrow embouchure or the
moist lip of a wooden reed.
John Muro is a resident of Connecticut and a lover of all things chocolate. Since 2021, he has been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Award, and, most recently, he was a Grantchester Award winner. John has published two volumes of poems – In the Lilac Hour and Pastoral Suite – in 2020 and 2022, respectively. John’s work has been featured in such journals as Acumen, Barnstorm, Delmarva, Grey Sparrow, River Heron, Sky Island and the Valparaiso Review.
This poem previously appeared in Sky Island.