Every evening
they draw me down to the water
where I stretch out my arms
with my head bent back
and stand in the center of a storm,
thousands of dragonflies,
flitting, darting, circling,
coming so close I can
hear their wings,
a hum, a hungry wind
against my skin,
this spectacle I long to join,
another bejeweled dancer moving to a symphony
written on the air,
our appetite never satisfied,
the score of life performed
by every cell.
-Steve Brammell
Steve Brammell has written for Alabama Magazine, Birmingham Magazine, and other publications in the past. Since returning to his native Indiana he’s published poems in RavensPerch, Northwest Indiana Literary Journal, White Wall Review, The Tiny Seed Literary Journal, The Write Launch, Flying Island Journal, Cathexis Northwest Press, and others. He lives in Indianapolis and works in the wine business.