Rapture
by Ben Bartu
The children who must be twins
lift fallen leaves through branch gaps
their mothers lure them out from
since they have become too learned
at making the sound of birds.
Each mother carries a sweet to simplify
the task. I watch
& therefore exist, & in this body
I twitch.
What is bears our weight
or hangs it from a rusty hook drafts opened.
Since you came a different way I owe you possibility.
A residence.
A mob of light
at every door.
My seizure with its hundred eyes
wondering what day will break first.
Benjamin Bartu is an epileptic poet & writer studying Human Rights & Conflict Resolution at Columbia University. He is the winner of the Blood Orange Review’s inaugural poetry contest, judged by Jericho Brown. His writing has appeared in or is forthcoming from The Adroit Journal, The Tahoma Literary Review, Lammergeier Magazine, The Mekong Review, & elsewhere. He graduated from Linfield College with a B.A. in Creative Writing & Political Science. An Associate Editor at Palette Poetry, he can be found on twitter @alampnamedben.