East of Midnight

By Benjamin Karren

School’s eulogy crackles in trillium-laced mountain air—
twenty fence posts down a dirt road, a cremation
for chemistry finals and college rejection letters,
a black Camaro thrumming Stairway to Heaven
gasoline-drenched cliques ignited by graduation. 

My burned CDs and letterman jacket obsolete—
we won’t be remembered after tomorrow.
My scorched pep rally speech, charred saxophone solo,
engulfed chess positions and prom night smolder,
entangled in the stars of the atmospheric ether.

Swaddle me in a jack-in-the-pulpit casket one last time
so, we can play flashlight tag and pretend it’s not the end.
At 3:00am we are a hammock of embers on a maple floor
as Jenny from study hall serves cookies and hot cider.
Only a ring remains, we are all ashes from the same fire. 

Benjamin Karren is a native Vermonter currently residing in Arizona where he works as a school psychologist. He is an emerging poet with work recently published in Shot Glass Journal, Wild Greens Magazine, Northern New England Review, WestWard Quarterly, and PentaCat Press.  Benjamin’s work seeks to explore a variety of topics including rural life, the divine, and human psychology.  In his spare time Benjamin enjoys playing chess and spending time with his wife and young son.