Written on the Winter Palms

Holes in the light-shaft.
In wind, lungs
cry near
Gethsemane, lunge
into blue time—handfuls
of red seas slake forms
wet with war—guests
melt in mud.

Your Highness, shhhh: I need
guesses in my prayers.

About the Author

John Bosworth is a senior at the University of Texas in Austin. He is the recipient of the 2018 Most Promising Young Poet Award from the Academy of American Poets, the 2018 Roy Crane Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Arts, and a two-time winner of the James F. Parker writing contests. He works as a poetry intern at Bat City Review.