by Nathaniel Herter


Expend yourself today

since night impends

in scarlet sighs


of branches shorn

by grasping children

already far too high.


High, and leavened,

risen, and awakened

in oppressive humid


green, and I alone

breaking glasses keen

and keening quiet.


Behold, and betake

me, playing in mud,

slapping mossy roots,


bearhanded, bear me

back and caress, barely,

in bare twilight bask


together, lest I turn

in sudden spurt

to something less


Nate Herter is a Classicist recently of UConn. He enjoys hearing himself talk, but wishes he was funnier.

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