If That Burns a Bridge Then It Wasn’t a Very Good Bridge

Poetry / Anhvu Buchanan & Brent Piller

I walk love down a tightrope between moment and moon. Every artist falls off a cliff. It's science: the moon so low and close it touches my shoulder, embraces me like a long lost penpal I never knew to know. I think we should keep all of this: the knife wounds in my whispers, a push off the ledge, my quicksand breaths, lighting a match and turning your back. Every bridge leads to a dusk. We never married or tried finishing before we started so of course I couldn’t find the longitude and latitude of your eyes. You never asked me why so I never had to ask why what. Every wire is a new horizon. Every emotion slows through winter. I forgot the feeling of falling through a trap door. Have you ever tried selling gravity to a bird?

Anhvu Buchanan is the author of The Disordered (sunnyoutside press) and Backhanded Compliments & Other Ways to Say I Love You (Works on Paper Press) His poems have also appeared recently or are forthcoming in Columbia Poetry Review, Harpur Palate, The Journal, kill author, Vinyl Poetry and ZYZZYVA. He was the recipient of the 2010 James D. Phelan Award and also received an Individual Artists Grant from the San Francisco Arts Commission. He received an MFA in creative writing from San Francisco State, and currently teaches in Berkeley.

Brent Piller can be reached at brent.piller@gmail.com