April 24, 2012

One poem by Gordon Hilgers


I am tired
of the curdled milk
of Heaven

how it bleaches
bones of the days
without nurturing us.

I am tired of your breasts
drawing me to suckle
under patchy sky.

Hold closed my eyes.
Bathe everything in white.
Blot-out the horizon.

Let me sleep again.

Gordon Hilgers began writing early, at age nine, and has continued writing. He has published poetry in several magazines including The Red River Review, Texas Arts Review, Detour Magazine, Deathlist 5, Every Reason and others.  He is the author of "Refugee Clouds" (1995) and "The War Against The Alphabet" (2001). He lives in Dallas, Texas and walks to the grocery store every day. 

1 comment:

  1. Love this one, Gordon. Thematically and tonally much like my Hue and Cry that's in this issue also. The longing to return to Mother; childhood regression; the weariness of the Human Condition. Beautifully worked here