This poem appears in the Winter 2015 issue of Modern Age. To subscribe now, go here.


 

In a grove outside Corinth
He tells of waters.

Not as other men
Speaks he
But as oranges lift in the breeze

As tears dry

His voice is a vacant grave.
The dust of tombs becomes

The road

From Corinth. It is long.

By the waters off Capernaum
We are unmade

Under a gold dome
In gold mosaic
Under vast waters

One face.

 

Brian J. Buchanan is a freelance writer and editor in Nashville, Tennessee. His poetry and essays have appeared in such journals as Literary Matters, Cumberland River Review, Puckerbrush Review, Valley Voices, and Potomac Review, and on National Review Online.