Outside, in the Bright Light
we practice harm. Bloodletting
from peeled scabs. Exorcising weakness.
Bramble scratches, horsefly bite, scraped knees,
twisted ankle, dirt in your eye, wasp sting.
Fall a thousand more times. Collide
with the earth’s heavy truth, collide
until you ache with knowing
all that is unavoidable.
Outside, in the bright light
your fatherlessness is unrecognizable.
Here you are a child of the sun.
Can I really raise you on rainwater,
mudpies? Sometimes your wildness
looks like it could consume us,
honeysuckle overtaking a forest.
How could I be the one to cut you
into a carpet-soft lawn, forever
green and tidy, awaiting fake flamingos
and other lifeless charms? I’ll risk
complete obliteration to keep
the sweetness. So creep
like a vine or erupt like an August bloom.
I can be your trellis, at best.
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: transfinity by Joey Gould - June 19, 2026
- Sundress Reads: Review of ‘Flood’ by Rachel Bulman - June 18, 2026
- The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: transfinity by Joey Gould - June 18, 2026
