Mike Krutel

We're in a Cloud, Jessica

I am with difficulty
rearranging patterns of static
that ferment around
our little heads. O . . . I don’t know,
they say, were there ever instructions
for touching correctly? Upright,
every morning before the arrival
of the sanitation men, I tilt
my head over a bowl of something
simple, try to point out winged folk,
which never feels like enough. When we breath
it feels like moisture or very hot paper, and I
can’t stop twitching my index finger
at the easy weather systems. The ambiguous moon
does its dirty thing. The New Wave
never gets any older and here
I am pulsing like an idiot instead of taking
some seat at the assembly
for our greatest misfeatures. You, beautiful
in your unassuming. I ask you
to get a little closer
because we’ve already given up
on distances and times
having come this far. The trick
has always been an eye kept on
the coming floods of light
as we steer our bodies
into an impossible navigation,
the crowds gathering, the tide
swift and its enormous breasts
laying me closer to a point
where I can begin with scissors and twine
to fasten my body against a spectrum
filling both duty-sense and radio.






Mike Krutel is a poetry editor for Barn Owl Review and the co-curator of The Big Big Mess Reading Series in Akron, OH. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in H_NGM_N, ILK, NOÖ, and iO.