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Writing and sharing poetry plays a role for me in thinking about absence and injustice. Here are three of my poems:


cover me
cover me

ribbons of red
assault me

break me

to lesser gods

drops of rain
in the southern sun

i renounce
what minds have wrought

cover me
cover me


a white kite flying

a white kite flying
in the billowing breeze

i cannot hear voices
from the sandy soil
i cannot hear voices
from the rich black earth

i cannot taste salt
in the lapping sea
i cannot taste salt
in the plate of greens

i cannot smell magnolias
after June�s last rain
i cannot smell magnolias
when they�ve fallen to the ground

i cannot touch that robin�s egg
in the top of the tallest spruce
i cannot touch that robin�s egg
even after it hatches and breaks

i cannot see you
where you used to be
i cannot see
i cannot see

a white kite caught
in the newly-leaved tree

It's only the survivors

not clavicles crushed under layers of sandstone
healing its human scars

not oxygen-starved lungs practicing
the inexorable law of diminishing returns

not light-hungry eyes buried
in stagnant pools of blood and limbs

not sun-bleached skulls staring row upon row
in that eighty-thousand square-foot warehouse

who calmly declare
"it's all for the best."

all poems copyright Charles Thomas
publication credits:

completely (Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, no. 34, Spring/Summer 2010, p. 31)

a white kite flying (Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, no. 28, Spring/Summer 2007, p. 99)

It's only the survivors (Poem, no. 96, November 2006, p. 53)