Heirlooms
When you come home
the lanterns of the evening
the crush and exhale
of summer swelter
has yet to come:
this heatless August:
or at least not
the cardinal feather
early morning burn.
Still the careworn lawns
the drought grass
tongueless:
baked clay cracked
brown grey.
When the sun goes down
let’s sit outside
under the hawk call moon
let’s light the trees
and near midnight on fire
I’ve watered the tomatoes
I’ve watered the herbs
I’ve watered the peppers
as though steeping:
the drying ground
the shoot shadows:
a gift for you.
*
John Walser’s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Spillway, Water-Stone Review, Plume, Posit and december magazine. His manuscript Edgewood Orchard Galleries has been a finalist for the Autumn House Press Prize, the Ballard Spahr Prize and the Zone 3 Press Prize as well as a semifinalist for the Philip Levine Prize and the Crab Orchard Series First Book Award. A four-time semifinalist for the Pablo Neruda Prize, as well as a Best New Poets, a Pushcart and a Best of the Net nominee, John is a professor of English at Marian University and lives in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, with his wife, Julie.