We pressed our ears to the earth

A contemporary poem from E.B. Johnson.

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

there was a stillness in the glen;
a little less gladsome than it was
grateful. she sharpened the knife
while he sharpened the pen and 
the two came tumbling down the
shelf; handclasped and wanting 
more. “hold,” he told her. “wait,”
she shuddered. it’s not as easy to
keep it together when the whole
place is burning down. the ides
of …