Carter Rekoske

revolutions

i've made a habit of
          drunk dialing
            god
on the land line
               and hanging
                     up without
any words. the world ends
and ends and ends
again.
the earth
turns and circles on a tilt
             like a basketball
                        that can't
                    decide
whether or not to sink
       into the rim.
     but the ball
   never falls.

°

how still the earth
begins      and begins
    and begins
again. what is left
to say?
it's malpractice—
to make something
beautiful
when nothing is.

°

god winds up
his little music box
and watches
his little ballerina
circle around the sound
like a hungry moon.
how many revolutions
until it ends?

°

i had forgotten the rain.
how still      the dirt glistens.
how still      the plants
open their toothless mouths.
how still      the earth.
how still      the sky
falls             for no one.

° 

dear god, i'm not asking
for wings. i'm asking
how to love this world
without them.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Carter Rekoske is an MFA student at Louisiana State University. You can find his poems in the Atlanta Review, Common Ground Review, Sinking City and elsewhere. He currently serves as a poetry editor for New Delta Review.