bombardier

a drop of water 
like an atomic bomb 
plummeted to my page; 

up came a plumb 
in the weave of fibers; 

villagers of ink 
smeared awash— 

my heart murmured, 
my breath 
hooked my throat. 

i never wished

to be afraid of heights/ 

i climb 

the maple. its ashy-green limb bends. 
     the murky river reveals her skin/ 
she knows i am timid.  

the moon is closer 
when i look down. 

 • 

my other face is a sun/  
    i imagine  
being bright, being brave 

       yet ripples disfigure 
my eyes, nose, lips, hair & this  
is how i learn 

the theory of fear. 

JOHN COMPTON

John Compton is a gay poet from Kentucky. He lives with his husband, dogs, and cats. His newest full length book, the castration of a minor god, will be published by Ghost City Press in December 2022.