The sun sets grapefruit and apricot over the valley
Honeysuckle rhododendron and mountain laurel
And the tourists’ burning brakes perfume the air
I glide through the curves and
The cortisol glides through my brain
I am in between
I am always coming and going always on my way
Out
My moving makes the world static
The great refraction suspends the mountain
Shadows below and the long arm of the galaxy above
The air is a confection to cut through
I have left my love and hate
And have not yet arrived at love and hate
And the small things in the darkness sing eat sleep and die
*
The Cardinal
As I was dying the cardinals were in the clover
In my hospital room I had orthodox holy water and basic cable
Outside the cardinal dismembered a grasshopper
When they moved me to what would become my deathbed
The cardinals cracked sunflower seeds against Demeter’s empty eyes
Outside a cold and empty temple
Inside, my brother put a small ceramic cardinal on a shelf
Next to empty coffee cups and alcohol swabs
You all waited for the good fortune the cardinals bring
When I got sick you painted me a cardinal
And now you watch them flying light as the breath that left me
Noah Soltau is a professor at Carson-Newman University and lead editor of The Red Branch Review. He lives and works in East Tennessee. Follow him on Instagram @noahsoltau and @redbranchreview.