“How to remove oneself from oneself
(without unknowing oneself totally):
I remove myself from myself
one shadow at a time. I pull and
a curtain of cloud fills the room.
By now, something is leaking,
a blue tarpaulin flaps in the breeze.
My eyes have faded from white
to yellow to red, and then to ash.
I have burned myself in the furnace
of my fears, baked in the oven
of desire until steam rises from
my skull and the hungry eaters,
called to table from an upper
floor, descend to their plates
and bowls and forks and knives.
I disappear down a hundred throats
and my sighs are lost in the green wind.
Steve Klepetar’s work has appeared widely, and several of his poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Recent collections include My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto and The Li Bo Poems (forthcoming) both from Flutter Press.