Today's poem is by Jayson Keery

Stealth narcissus
        for trancestors

Dead, you are my creatures.
Income elegy. I save you. I point

at the who-saved-who picture frame
sits empty, a pane of glass, a pool of water,

only water keeps us apart, my love,
myself. I am myself the boy I see.

The popular pronoun is now object
me. I, the abyss I'll never see

in this fountain dead, this glass empty,
this present where I portend my echo

to be you. Save me! You
gazing at myself as I'm dead.

Eros of erosion. The future has begun
its stiletto on cobblestone escape. You

gaze at myself like a fresh cut.
Fetch a fair price at market. I am

your bankable version.
I burn love in verse

for me, drown me for relief,
for a single kiss with what abyss.

With what abyss. Am I missing
everything, not to mention the point.

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Copyright © 2023 Jayson Keery All rights reserved
from Black Warrior Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission