By Mark Belair

A night
dark as the sleep that eludes me.

A lone
streetlamp—I rise to see—slanted with rain.

tire treads creasing the street’s black wetness.

weighting the wrangled sheets I wade back into.

so distinct, lush, and insistent

they seed a drizzly, then

rainfall of dreams.



Mark Belair’s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Alabama Literary Review, Atlanta Review, The Cincinnati Review, Harvard Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Poetry East and The South Carolina Review. His latest collection is Watching Ourselves (Unsolicited Press, 2017). Previous collections include Breathing Room (Aldrich Press, 2015); Night Watch (Finishing Line Press, 2013); While We’re Waiting (Aldrich Press, 2013); and Walk With Me (Parallel Press of the University of Wisconsin at Madison, 2012). He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize multiple times. Please visit www.markbelair.com

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