Brian Czyzyk

Halcyon

These days, he’s the hands that heft each square
of baled hay. He’s the splinter-filled glove, the blister 

that must bleed. I’m the hand that lotions his scalp,
the tongue to clean each wing of dirt 

above his brow. Once, our foreheads were untilled
and plain as cotton sheets. We slept cozy and dreamless 

and alone. I woke up drooling gasoline. He woke up outlined
in crude oil. Now, we make each hangnail a love-knot. 

We sidle into day like a bobcat edging toward a barn fence,
and at night, our moaning makes the rooster’s call a whimper.

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Brian Czyzyk is a bi/queer, neurodivergent poet from Traverse City, Michigan. He holds an MFA from Purdue University and is pursuing a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of North Texas where he is Editor-in-Chief of American Literary Review. The recipient of awards from the Academy of American Poets and AWP, his work is published and forthcoming in Best New Poets 2025, Birmingham Poetry Review, The Hopkins Review, Cream City Review, Waxwing and elsewhere. He wishes you the best.