Issue > Poetry
Chris C. Crew

Chris C. Crew

Christopher Crew is an educator, father and flashlight party co-host. His poetry can be found in near-past or near-future issues of The Atlanta Review, Grub Street, The Briar Cliff Review, The Cincinnati Review and The Gettysburg Review.


I learn

From a relief pitcher's death,

the same  
from my father’s body  
20  
was  
  
  
the closest swath of
  
  
paper:  
  
the warm   
birth hurricanes—  
  
his head.  
  
  
internet:  
neurons   
wrap around  
brain and  
the seat  
the breakers.   
  
And the boats  
  
  
painted  
a board seat  
to remember  
  
around  
  
From  
  
movement  
  
  
  
  
the windmill   
toward  
points   
visible   
  
each turn   
  
astronomical
day we washed February
Victor
swam out into the cove. Venezuela
washed with gold
heat
lightening
sky.

From the

the propeller—in
salt waters that

struck


From the
three newly mapped

the whole
may be
of consciousness beyond


turtled
along the beach
are tropical
words, with just

the human body
that turned them
a blade.

water:
all
is borrowed
from stillness.

The propeller
is

home, the finer


only to those living

of those
years.

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