The liberty bell set against a peach-colored square surrounded by an image of water.

Bells

November 17, 2020

 

I had always assumed the right to white herons, to the tickle of fish

through light, that right to each unenumerated privacy

as washes between those words we dare unspeak. 

 

This is what is left to us: Heft of shoulder, height of body, weight

of tongue at the strike point. We are copper, we are tin. 

You resound. I begin. 

 

________

John M. Bellinger is a long-time editor for The Comstock Review – 35 years in print! This would not be his first published poem. Hopefully, it will not be his last.

________

Humanist Manifesto
[American Humanist Association]


 

Previous Story

Praise Odes (Three Poems)

Next Story

Torch the Empty Fields

Latest from Identity

My Name Too

By Kashiana Singh. "They wore turbans too / working packages / on a chilly night."
Go toTop

More Like This

I Buy a Star Projector to Get Me Through the Election

It wasn’t easy. It isn’t now. It won’t be, ever.

Hallowed

We are on our own together with only as much magic as we remember how to find.