The story that needs to be told
is the one recited in his sleep.
He wants to carry it into the day
but its words won’t wake with him.
Now when he speaks, it sounds
like a cracked bell, and the doors
he opens ache on their hinges,
an echo diminishing, the trace
of a road erased from a map.
When he asks for directions,
they always lead to where the rain
drives its nails into the ground.
Paul Telles is a former journalist and lifelong reader of poetry who thinks retirement is a self-funded writing fellowship. His poems have appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, Book of Matches, Inflectionist Review, BoomerLitMag, and other publications. He received his MFA from Pacific University in January 2024. Many of his best friends are children and trees.