A Beautiful Jump

Travis Mersing

I've tried to learn the names of hours—there's wool. There's red currant. There's eyes-in-the-night-window. There's nothing. Like goinghome in a dream—four feet of wet towels in the kitchen.There's quilt smother. There's pleasesmile. You've come so far. Now walkthe property line—and, sometimes, feel alive.Imagine new orchards, blackberry tangleslike good, thick hair, and being lovedin a ragged floral print. The stillnessin a river-glass pendant. Body-warm, green.Some strength for now, on a thin life of twine.

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Travis Mersing is originally from a family farm in the West Virginia highlands. His recent work explores the conflicts and questions that emerge from such subjects as home, childhood, relationships, and gender. Previous poems have appeared in Souvenir and Stirring.


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