Sifting
I saw a cajun singer
on Instagram
say he loved
his baby’s face,
‘cause she was freckled
like a turkey egg.
I thought how beautiful,
how precise,
how achingly strange.
I want to do the same.
Green,
your eyes,
but not like sea glass,
not like tree frogs,
not like moss.
A deeper green,
a heart-green,
an old green
flecked with gold.
Buzzing green,
pond green,
with waters I could sit by
in the amber mists
of age.
Your eyes are that pond–
your eyes are that green–
they teem with verdant lilies,
gentle cranes
on slender feet.
I rise to them
and float–the world
is dragonflies and smoke,
algae blooms
on dappled skin.
I drift further in–
on Instagram
say he loved
his baby’s face,
‘cause she was freckled
like a turkey egg.
I thought how beautiful,
how precise,
how achingly strange.
I want to do the same.
Green,
your eyes,
but not like sea glass,
not like tree frogs,
not like moss.
A deeper green,
a heart-green,
an old green
flecked with gold.
Buzzing green,
pond green,
with waters I could sit by
in the amber mists
of age.
Your eyes are that pond–
your eyes are that green–
they teem with verdant lilies,
gentle cranes
on slender feet.
I rise to them
and float–the world
is dragonflies and smoke,
algae blooms
on dappled skin.
I drift further in–
duckweed tugging
at my ankles,
wet mouth open
to the sun.
at my ankles,
wet mouth open
to the sun.
Cody Gohl is a Brooklyn-based poet exploring queerness, intimacy, memory, and the odd, radiant moments that shape a life. His work appears or is forthcoming in Yīn Literary, Eunoia Review, Blood + Honey, Cosmic Daffodil Journal, Haiku Shack, and more. He is currently completing his debut poetry collection, January 2034. Find him on Instagram @pico.de.gayo.
Beaver Magazine 