Three Poems by John Tustin

John Tustin



Fly You May


Fly you may

Or fly you must


In the good weather

Or the storm


Surrounded by the colors

Of purple or pale blue

Cinnamon or nearly black

With wings damp or dry —

It’s best to remember

Gliding through the vast

With a strong young back

And wings of silk and wire


That there is even a limit

To the sky



Her Hair is All the Clouds in the Sky


Her hair is all the clouds in the sky.

Her eyes are two pinpoints of darkness

In distance that intrudes

While I sleep naked in distress

Knowing the morning will be

Her body again lying broken upon a bed,

Immaculate and disappeared,

With the sun streaming in and pouring

All that accursed light.



Work of Art

Tonight we create

Another indelible

Work of art.

My paintbrush tongue dipping into your

Tightening well of paint,

My thumbprint on your thigh

To serve

As my

Signature.



John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many literary journals over the last dozen years. See fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry for links to his published poetry online.


 © 2020 þ (Thorn) Literary Magazine                                                                        

  • Twitter
  • Grey Instagram Icon

þ

Thorn Literary Magazine