Leveler Poetry Journal
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Consensus

 

Walking far from home, I am certain that

sushi was the idea of the cherry branch,

 

which, having flowered for three days,

is compelled by forces coded in the seed to

 

begin the parting of its fine, papery petals,

revealing what least-expected leaves will

 

take their place. And I, in this instant of the

dawning of the untimely death of beauty,

 

am suddenly a man whom the universe has

kept locked in the long, florescent tunnel

 

of thought, and who, suddenly released,

stumbles blinking around a corner to find

 

himself regarding this very branch, which

we agree, when viewed from a distance,

 

resembles closely the cool, dark flesh of

tuna, wrapped in seaweed, rolled in rice.




Eric Kozlik