by Jeremy Radin

Like puzzle pieces they fit together.
Jawline to accentuated jawline. 

It’s nighttime here in the hut.
The large supper has been dealt with

& forgotten. A pair of presentable bodies
braided in a meadow, restful hands

inform imminent dreamstorms.
Focus on the ficus, how gently it tears

the pavement apart—hardiness
of street trees in sleet, under-networked,

plying the ancient trade. The cat
asleep, twitching in his own wind—

focus on that. Heartbreak?Ah.
A brief sonata, moonridden hum

lost in blue folds of daylight.
There are so many meadows, love.

So many meadows, so many loves, 
so many manys & meadows.

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About the Author:

Jeremy Radin is a writer and actor. His poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Poem-a-Day, Ploughshares, The Colorado Review, Crazyhorse, The Sun, Only Poems, and elsewhere. He is the author of three collections of poetry: Belly God (Orison Books, forthcoming 2026, selected by Ellen Bass), Dear Sal (Not A Cult, 2022), Slow Dance with Sasquatch (Write Bloody Publishing, 2012). As an actor, he has worked extensively in theater, film and tv. He lives in New York, where he likes to sit in the park and point at birds. Follow him @germyradin