The Forethought

The Forethought

In the neglected garage
there lies a forethought,
a patient prophecy,
a pair of ruthlessly
clear eyes for what’s to come.

With these rusty garden shears,
to be hanging heavy long
after I am gone —
it speaks to me,
voice low, imminent.

At that distance
I hold my coming dissolution,
in that shadow,
perilously close, but
always out of reach —

I close my garage door
gently, long after
autumn turns. In the
frigid morning, I expect
to hear it, the bitter oracle —

when I come around,
it is always already awake.

// By Jesse Miksic
// Published in Schuylkill Valley Journal, Winter 2023

In so much of my poetry, something unexpected emerges as I am writing. In this poem, published in a local print journal a couple years ago, this happened in a shameless, provocative way, as the poem called something forth out of that dark, open garage door.

I had another poem published in the same journal earlier this month. I thought this would be a good time to revisit and repost this slightly older one, to help spin up this new gallery of creative artifacts.

Thanks for your support, Schuylkill Valley Journal editors and fellow contributors! Keep cool, everybody.