Tip The Writer

Keegan Roembke

where I found peace

One. Isolated sliver of stone-walled River through

                    New trail’s flowers painted yellow,     blue.


                    water flows an inch at a time


                    the slab of stone my bones sit on keeps time.


                    This. Is the way the poem’s end grabs with rhyme

                              Is how the rock where (all) reside is


                    Is a violin        beside

                                            a low-pitched penetrating whistle

the chirping cicadas and the

                    airy bristle

                            Of symbiotic life taking

roaches to the bin

                    Of neither saint nor law nor grace nor sin –

                            Of where blank paper meets

the coldwarm hues of pen

                                                        Is breathing life-

‘s earnest gratitude

                                            for one more breath of Oxygen,

                                            and the next.

            The last minute

of the final most beautiful song by a bird

            playing as idealized lonesomeness is reached

For which we long.                         The unveiling                     of the yellow

                                                gold cutleaf coneflower

Catwalking the sand runway saying stop

                        drop this minute to the tune of an hour.