As I Center the Universe
In my bedroom
a white oak is silhouetted
against the Sierra foothills.
Its branches twist,
leaves glitter in the setting sun.
To the left of that amazing tree,
family members eye one another
from picture frames.
To its right,
Juliet seeks out her Romeo
from among the cluttered flesh and bone
emerging from a summer night’s sleep.
It’s seven in the morning
and grandeur keeps company
with bloodlines and love.
A yawn completes the picture.
An axis mundi with the sleep removed.
About the Poet
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Soundings East, Dalhousie Review and Connecticut River Review. Work upcoming in Hollins Critic, Redactions and I-70 Review.